Contractual Obligations
by Jinni
Summary: Years of intermarriage between pureblood families has begun to cause genetic problems in those same bloodlines. The only solution the Ministry can see is to make a decree that will forever affect Hermione Granger's life. HGSS
1. Chapter 1

Title: Contractual Obligations

Author: Jinni R

Pairing: HG/SS

Disclaimer: All things HP belong to JK Rowling, et al.

Distribution: The normal places.

Notes: In response to the "Marriage Law" challenge issued at WIKTT.

Summary: Years of intermarriage between pureblood families has begun to cause genetic problems in those same bloodlines. The only solution the Ministry can see is to make a decree.

x x Prologue x x

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here today."

Hermione nodded, the deep sense of dread that had been perched in her stomach all morning coming out in full force now that she was actually sitting in the Headmaster's office. She hadn't done anything recently, either on her own or with the boys, to get her into any sort of trouble. In fact, her seventh year had been rather uneventful. Not even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been active. 

"You're aware, I would assume, of the recent Marriage Law enacted by the Ministry?"

She snorted before she could stop herself, hand flying up to cover her mouth with a blush. How could she not know about that idiotic new law that the Ministry felt was 'best' for all of wizarding society? It was tempting to run off as soon as she graduated from Hogwarts and stay hidden until after someone came to their senses and repealed the bloody thing, just so she wouldn't have to run the risk of being forced to participate.

"I see you do not approve?" The Headmaster chuckled softly, but the twikle was absent from his eyes. That was her first clue that something was wrong. Really, really wrong. The Headmaster's eyes never lost that twinkle unless something bad was happening.

"No, Headmaster, I do not. I feel that it is nothing more than the enslavement of muggleborns by the purebloods into a breeding program." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, ignoring that rising fear in the back of her throat. Why would the Headmaster have called her to his office to discuss the Marriage Law?

"Very true, my dear," the old wizard sighed softly. "And I fear that, on that note, I have some news for you."

Hermione sat up straighter, eyes widening as the Headmaster produced two identical pieces of parchment from within his desk.

"These," he gestured at the parchments. "Came for you late last night. Considering the circumstances, I felt it best not to wake you at that time, however we must deal with it today."

"Sir?" She whispered, glancing from the rolled parchments to him and then back to the parchments. "No. No! You must be mistaken."

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I wish that there were something I could do - however the situation is quite firmly out of my hands."

Hermione felt like a caged animal, her eyes darting around the room frantically for any method of escape. There wasn't one, of course; and even if there were, where would she go? She still had another four months left to her schooling at Hogwarts - and after that she had been debating University. The only place that would be open to her was her parents' home, and that was the first place the Ministry would think to look for her when she ducked out on the contracts.

"I'm still in school!" She cried, joy lighting her face. "They can't do this while I'm still attending Hogwarts. . .can they?"

"The Law stipulates only that the muggleborn be at least eighteen years of age and that her partner be that old, as well."

"Well, then - there you go," she smiled. "My eighteenth birthday isn't until this August."

The Headmaster met her eyes, and she felt her heart sink. "Your use of the Time Turner during your third year has marked your age up significantly in the Ministry's records. I'm afraid there's nothing to be done."

Hermione felt bitter tears of resentful anger prick the corners of her eyes, stinging their way into her very being. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be! She was going to go to University, meet a nice wizard, fall in love - and see where things went from there. And now. . .Now there were contracts waiting for her to sign.

"Why are there -two-?" She muttered, curiosity winning over the pain in her heart.

"Well, now that is an interesting situation." He tapped the scrolls significantly. "It appears that two fathers intervened for you on their sons' behalves at almost exactly the same moment. As such, you get a choice."

More than most muggleborns were getting under the current Law, Hermione knew, though it did little to ease the pain in her chest, the panic she was feeling.

"Do you know who --?"

"No," the Headmaster shook his head. "The scrolls are sealed and have remained that way since they were delivered to my office last night." 

"How long do I have to decide?"

"I must have the decision before you leave this office, Miss Granger. Soon, before the Ministry decides to make a personal showing for the event, I daresay."

She frowned, glaring now at the scrolls that held her life within them. One of them had to be better than the other, of course; but that wasn't saying much. She was being betrothed to someone who wanted her solely for the purpose of thinning a bloodline that had become more and more condensed through years of what basically amounted to inbreeding.

"You said their -fathers- made the proposal?" She murmured after a moment, brow furrowed with confusion. "Is that allowed?"

"The patriarch of a wizarding family remains firmly in control of his children until such point as he passes on, I'm afraid."

"Oh." 

The room seemed to narrow to her and the scrolls. Only dimly was she even aware of the Headmaster still sitting there, waiting for her to make the next move. She leaned forward, snagging the scrolls from his desk. One was tied with ebony ribbon, the other with an emerald green. Colors of the very snakes that lurked in the dungeons, her mind whispered with a terrible sense of forewarning.

She slipped a trembling finger beneath the edge of the first roll of parchment, sliding it along until it reached the seal. The wax gave way, breaking a family crest that she didn't recognize anyway. The writing on the parchment was black and flowing, an awful style of old handwriting that was difficult on the eyes, though legible. Without realizing she was even doing it, she began to read aloud,

". . .I, Alessander Richard Snape, on behalf of my son, Severus Alain Snape. . ."

She gasped, dropping the paper. Her eyes sought the Headmaster's, only to find that he, too, was in a similar state of shock. She fumbled nervously for the contract that had fallen to the floor, holding it between two fingers as if she were afraid it would bit her given half a chance. She dropped it into the chair next to her, questioning eyes searching Dumbledore's face.

"My dear, I daresay that even Severus isn't aware that was sent. This was not something I expected. Alessander is a proud man, however, and Severus is his only child. . .Securing him a wife would almost ensure an heir to the family name."

Hermione flinched, the words a slap to her face no matter how kindly or matter of factly they were spoken. Snape? The greasy git of the dungeons? The Potions Master that had done nothing but cause her and her friends trouble since day one? She shivered, the idea distubing.

"Well," she pasted a half-smile on her face, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. "At least we're almost guaranteed that choice number two is better."

She was quicker about opening this one, breaking the green wax cleanly to unroll the parchment. The writing was equally filled with flourishes, though slightly easier on the eyes.

". . .I, Lucius Janus Malfoy . . . " She bit off a curse, frightened eyes darting to Dumbledore for comfort she knew he wouldn't be able to give. "This is my choice? My Professor or Draco Malfoy?"

When he didn't speak, she knew that it was the truth. In the Headmaster's eyes she could see a wealth of regrets for her and the situation she found herself in. But there was no comfort to be given. No kind words that would make the entire situation dry up and blow away. The only thing that could save her would be a very swift repeal of the Marriage Law, and that wasn't looking likely.

She was going to have to sign one of them.

"Sir. . .do you. . .I mean. . ." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. A headache was already building in her temple, and it was nearly guaranteed to only get worse. "Do you have any suggestions, is what I'm trying to say."

"Draco is closer to your own age," the Headmaster offered slowly.

"Yes, but he -is- a Death Eater." She shuddered. Even pureblood wives were far from treasured by -those- type of wizards. Abuse was commonplace, no matter how often one tried to gloss over it. She had seen Draco's mother before, sporting a black eye beneath a charm that wasn't quite tight enough to hold off prying eyes. She knew well enough what awaited her if she conceded to the union with Draco.

The Headmaster nodded. "Severus is not a bad man, child. For all that he is old enough to be your father, I do not believe he would treat you in the manner you are most afraid of."

"Mental abuse is the same as physical," she muttered darkly.

"He is the closest thing I have ever had to a son of my own, Miss Granger," Dumbledore sighed. "If you fear Malfoy so greatly, I would urge you to choose Severus. I can't say it will be easy at first - but the two of you will come to a mutually beneficial agreement, eventually, I am sure."

Hermione nodded, struck dumb for words. This was it - her life condensced down to a choice between a Death Eater and a Death Eater turned spy. She reached for the first of the parchments, smoothing it out across her lap. She looked down once more at the names that were written out so prettily, knowing Snape was likely to have a fit when he found out.

Still. . .better him than Malfoy.

"May I have a quill please, sir?"

x x End Prologue x x


	2. Chapter 2

x x Part Onex x

She felt numb, and supposed that that was the only thing keeping her sane at that very moment. The impulse to throw herself to the ground and cry, perhaps scream, was very much alive and well; it was just that damned numbness that was keeping it at bay. She didn't have the energy to cry. Nor the energy to scream. It was all she could do to drift slowly from the Headmaster's office, with the assurance that he would send someone for her later, to make her way slowly to her rooms.

This couldn't be happening.

Yet, it was, she reminded herself; the sarcasm taking a large bite out of the numbness she was wrapped in. She shivered despite the warmth of the halls and her robes. There was nothing warm about her situation.

The halls were mercifully empty at this time of day, most students in classes. A few, those with a free period, cast curious glances her way as she wandered past. What did she look like to them? It wasn't written on her forehead, she knew. No one could just look at her and see that she was being forced into this barbaric rite. There was no possibly way that they could look at her and know that –

Hermione stopped, leaning heavily against the wall. She pressed the side of her face to the cool stone, taking deep gasping breaths of air. Getting hysterical wasn't going to change anything, she knew. But, despite that logical assessment of the situation, her body and mind were steadily working against her. Her world was spinning out of control while she stood at the center of it, getting dizzier and dizzier. Unreal, she thought bitterly. It was all so unreal. She was going to marry. . .

Oh, sweet Merlin.

She slid downwards unthinkingly, stopping herself halfway to the floor. This wouldn't do at all. Having a breakdown in the hallway wasn't something that she did. That was for drama lovers like Lavender, perhaps Parvati. Hermione Granger did not have a meltdown in the middle of the hall.

Or off to one side, as it were.

She pulled herself together, casting thin reassuring smiles at the students that had begun to slowly make their way over to her. Nothing to see here, she hoped her smiles said. Keep it moving. Just another day in the life of an overworked seventh year.

The walk back to her rooms had never seemed as long as it did during that journey of torturous inner thoughts and near-hysterical silent cries. She muttered the password to the portrait, unresponsive to the regal-looking woman's murmured cries of alarm. She looked a fright, apparently. Tear tracks on her cheeks, evidence of the sorrow she couldn't even remember shedding. Shock was the Muggle term for what she was feeling. Shock and a good, not-so-healthy dose of pure terror.

She bit her lip, wandering through the common room that she shared with the Head Boy, towards her door. It was open, just as she could remember leaving it that morning. Her nightgown was folded neatly at the end of her bed, the books she needed to return to the library piled in an even stack on her nightstand. It seemed an eternity since she had done those normal, everyday things that morning. Cleaning her room, readying her bag for the day. The same things she could remember doing every school day since she came to Hogwarts.

It was that familiarity, that normality, that broke her.

She sobbed once, tears beginning to flow freely down her cheeks to leak in wet globules off her chin. Turning in a slow circle she surveyed her things, her room. It was all so wrong now. A married woman – that's what she'd be. She'd graduate from Hogwarts as Hermione Granger-Snape. Or would it just be Hermione Snape? For all she knew this horrid law regulated how her name should be taken. . .spelled. . . written.

She snapped, growling in frustrated anger as the tears continued to flow.

Turning, the seventh year grabbed hold of one of the books on her nightstand, hurling it angrily at the Gryffindor banner that hung on her wall. It crashes to the floor, spine up, the pages bending at an awkward angle. What did Houses mean to her now? What did –any- if it mean?

In a slow circle she spun, frantic, teary eyes darting around the room. Would she stay here, amongst her own things? Or was she required to live with –

"NOOOO!" She screamed, falling to her knees, hands covering her ears in abject horror. This couldn't be happening. It was all a nightmare and any moment now she'd wake up, to find that the world was still right side up. Just a nightmare, she told herself. Why else would Lucius Malfoy want her to wed Draco? He hated Muggleborns – mudbloods, as they called them. Even as her harried brain began the line of reasoning, it was just as easily shut down. Of course he would want her. Hadn't she always been the brightest, the smartest? That was what she'd always wanted for herself, right? To prove herself as a 'real witch'.

Find job she'd done. It wasn't a nightmare, she realized with deathly certainty.

Nothing could wake her from this.

Nothing.

She curled in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest. A mere sobbing wreck on the thin carpet covering the stone floor. She didn't feel the hardness of the ground she lay upon, or the draft from where her skirt had hitched up as she curled in on herself. She couldn't feel –anything- except the desperate pain in her heart.

"You poor child. . ."

The words were in the air before Hermione even realized that she wasn't alone. She pulled up as thin arms encircled her, drawing her from the floor to be almost cradled against another warm body.

"Professor –"

"Shh." McGonagall murmured, holding her in a reassuringly tight grip when she tried to pull away. "It's alright, dear."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's really not."

Her professor sighed, nodding. "I don't suppose it really is, then."

The younger witch felt another dam within her burst, fresh tears taking the place of those that had begun to ebb.

"Isn't there. . .something. . ." She murmured between broken sobs. "Anything?"

"You can always leave this world, Hermione." The Transfigurations professor offered after a moment's silence, though it was clear by her tone that she spoke with the utmost reluctance. "You can offer up your wand to the Ministry and renounce your status within wizarding society. They'll have no hold over you, then."

"Oh, no," the brunette pulled herself up, out of her professor's arms. "I can't do that. There's nothing for me out there. . ."

McGonagall nodded. "I realize that, my dear. However, you wished for another option, and that is all I can give. Until someone sees fit to overturn this . . . .horrible mockery of a law. . ." She spat the words with undisguised venom.

Hermione nodded, unable to speak even to agree. What good did it do at this point anyway? By the time the law was repealed she would be unhappily married, serving out her sentence in the arms of one greasy git of a Potions Master. She hadn't read the marriage contract, but she doubted there was room for divorce. Wizarding society wasn't keen on that particular Muggle staple, though they seemed to have found enslavement something of a fad.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, pulling away only when her tears had finally run through again. "You have better things to do –"

"My classes have been taken care of for the time being," McGonagall murmured with a gentle shake of her head. The Transfiguration professor's normally severe face was lined with worry. "The Headmaster thought it would be best if you weren't alone at a time like this. If you would rather I summon your friends –"

"No!" Hermione gasped, eyes widening with horror. She hadn't even begun to figure out how she was going to break this to them. Marriage – to Snape. They'd either disown her entirely or try to kill Snape.

And she couldn't decide which was worse.

"Did you wish to talk about what's to come?"

Hermione sniffled, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I don't know, to be honest. I know about the law, of course. It's been all over the Daily Prophet. . .I just don't understand how Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Snape could do this to their sons."

She didn't say 'to me', knowing for a fact that Malfoy's father could care less than nothing about the welfare of a Muggleborn. She supposed that Snape's father must be very similar, to have gone along with such a demeaning law.

Professor McGonagall nodded tightly. "It is a hard thing to understand, when you haven't lived in our world completely. And, though it is an awful law, one that should be repealed, I can see why those who support it do so with such passion."

"Why, then? Why all this talk about preserving the bloodlines only to try to dilute them with 'mud'?" Hermione's nose wrinkled with distaste as the horrible epithet left her lips.

"Because their bigotry has endangered us all, my dear. The purebloods are staples of wizarding society – there are very few Muggleborns, believe it or not. For too long the pureblooded families have married amongst themselves, trading off every few years so that they didn't get 'too close'. . ."

"But it happened anyway?"

"Yes, unfortunately it did." McGonagall pressed her lips together in a thin smile. "The years are bringing more and more squibs to those families that once produced pureblooded children. There are. . .deformities, I suppose is the word, slowly filling the wards at St. Mungo's. The blood has gotten too 'pure', as it were. The family trees are sharing far too many branches than what is considered healthy. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, in complete understanding. "I still don't like it."

"I hardly expect you to. And, though I know it is no comfort at a time such as this, you received more choice than other Muggleborns have been given. Many of these girls have been wed to the first wizard to offer his hand. You, as I understood, received two offers."

"It wasn't really what I would call a choice," she whispered. "Draco or Professor Snape. A Death Eater or a. . . well, still a Death Eater, I suppose. Someone my age that I can't stand to be around for more than a moment without wanting to hex to the next life, or someone who probably feels the same way about me. It was like being placed between a rock and a much bigger rock."

"The Headmaster was going to speak with Severus as I left his office. This will be as much of a shock to him as it will be to you, I am sure. He has never been one to enjoy being ordered about by his parents."

Hermione sat up a little straighter, her eyes filling with hope. "What if he refuses. He can do that, right?"

McGonagall shook her head. "Only if he wished to be disowned, and I'm not sure that he would be willing to go so far simply to get out of an arranged marriage."

"Even if the marriage is to me?"

"Even so," her Professor smiled sadly. "And if he did, you would default to Mister Malfoy. I trust that you are still opposed to that?"

Hermione felt the hope leave her in an almost tangible rush. "Of course."

"So your best choice is still the on you've already chosen. I can't say that it won't be hard – but you will survive it."

Fresh tears slipped silently from Hermione's eyes. She bit her lower lip, turning her head from the older witch.

"But I want more than just –surviving-."

x x End Part x x


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For those of you that have read this before – no, this is not a rewrite, I'm just uploading my stuff to x x Part Three x x x 

It was inevitable, Hermione knew, that the moment would come when she had to stop crying and just get on with it. She fought it at first. Wallowing in the righteous misery that she felt was so much easier than dealing with the entire situation. As long as she was in here, crying, no one would approach her except to offer their condolences. But that couldn't go on forever, she knew that just as she knew that crying wasn't solving anything. There were things to do, after all. People to tell. Her parents, most importantly; though how she would break it to them that she was marrying a Professor, she hadn't the slightest clue.

Not to mention telling Harry and Ron. . .and everyone else. She supposed that there would be no way to keep it a secret, especially if Malfoy knew his father's intentions ahead of time. He would make a scene; she had no doubt about it. Choosing the greasy git over the slimy ferret? The choice made sense to her, but others might not see it the way she did. Especially since only herself, Harry, Ron and Ginny knew about the Order and the part Snape played in it. The students at large would hardly see the motives behind choosing Snape over Malfoy. Malfoy was her own age, after all. And wealthy. And somewhat more handsome than Snape was, though even she could admit that the Potions Professor -did- have somewhat of a dark and handsome look about him, even if it was hidden beneath and abominable attitude.

So, that was that, in essence. She had to tell them, starting with Harry and Ron. And then she would need to arrange time to visit her parents to inform them first of the Law itself, then of why she was currently considered to be eighteen, and finally that she was being forced to marry Snape.

The decision itself, she decided with absolute finality, could be left out of the discussion. There was no reason for them to know she had chosen Snape over Malfoy. Or even that there was a decision to begin with. Let them think that this was forced entirely on her by Snape's wretch of a father.

Hermione took a deep breath, easing her legs out of the position she had held for nigh on two hours now, ever since Professor McGonagall had left to attend her other duties. She felt calmer now, if not completely resolved to do what must be done. She would survive, just as McGonagall had said. Even if it wasn't enough to make her happy, it was enough to live. Eventually she may even find a way out of the entire mess.

Or Snape could die, she reasoned to herself. He -was- much older than her, even if not that old for a wizard. And he involved himself in dangerous activities on a regular basis. Not to mention the fact that he was a Potions Professor, carrying with it a certain degree of danger from careless students. Yes, death could very well come at any moment.

She winced suddenly, realizing that her brain had done nothing less than just wish death upon a man that had, for all intents and purposes, done her no harm outside of hurtful words. He certainly didn't deserve death for this, especially since he had no prior knowledge that it was going to happen. It was doubtful that he wanted anything to do with her, much less an unhappy marriage.

His father, on the other hand, could burn in the lowest circle of Hell for all of eternity for all that she cared. Him and Lucius Malfoy - bastards together, slowly roasting on the fiery coals of their damnation.

There she went again, she chastised herself, slowly pulling on her school robes again over her shirt and skirt. Those kind of thoughts were best left to the very men she wished it upon. They didn't do her own soul justice.

She slipped quietly into the halls of the school, thankful that classes were still in session. It was amazing that Ron and Harry hadn't tried to storm her rooms yet. The Headmaster must have said something to keep them in class, perhaps a convenient excuse for why she wasn't there. A project or something. Anything to keep them from harassing her before she was ready; even if at this point she didn't know if she would –ever- be ready.

But first she wanted to speak with the Headmaster or the details of the contract and arranging a meeting with her. . .

She swallowed hard, biting back the bile that rose in her throat.

Husband.

There, she had said it.

He was to be her husband.

She moaned softly, pressing her palm to her forehead, as if to press out the unpleasant images and thoughts racing through her very brain.

And then she was off.

The quickest route to the Headmaster's office still took her longer than she would have liked, considering how red and splotchy her face most likely still was, but there was no one to see her. She stopped in front of the gargoyle, pondering the stone menace. The fact that she didn't know the password into the office hadn't crossed her mind until that very moment.

"Gummy worms?" She offered tentatively.

Nothing.

"Licorice whips?"

Still nothing.

She growled, stamping her foot angrily at the immovable statute; though it did not so much as blink at her, let alone move.

"Sugar cubes," a voice murmured from behind her.

The last voice on earth she wanted to hear at that very moment.

She stifled a gasp, biting her lower lip to keep from letting the dreadful sound from her mouth.

"Thank you, Professor Snape."

He didn't answer, and she couldn't bring herself to turn to even look his way, though his footsteps were on the stairs behind her as she started up into the office. Another inevitability, she supposed, was that she would have to speak with him. Soon. Perhaps even now.

"Ah, Severus, Miss Granger. How fortunate that you both are here at the same time."

x x x 

Severus' head was pounding again, despite the best efforts of one of his stronger pain relief potions. Perhaps it had something to do with the half bottle of Firewhiskey he had consumed that morning amidst trying to cope with the train wreck his life had just become. Not even a sobriety charm could counter the effects of that level of intoxication completely. The headache, he knew, would serve as a lasting reminder of why he rarely indulged so heavily with hard liquor.

But, of course, here was the reason why he was indulging in the flesh. He ground his teeth together, knowing there was nothing to be done about it, and took a seat before the Headmaster's desk.

"The Ministry has received the signed contract," Dumbledore murmured almost softly, as if in concession to the pain he knew Severus was feeling. He probably did, the Potions Master noted with something akin to angry sarcasm, after all he knew everything else. He had even known of this ridiculous contract before either of the parties involved in it was made aware.

"Here are your copies," the Headmaster continued on, either blithely unaware of the dark haired wizard's internal ragings or just ignoring them completely. "They were quick to make note that the contract is very specific in terms to when the marriage must take place."

Severus was surprised to hear Granger snort loudly, with more venom than he could ever recall from her in the past.

"So we're not even allowed the luxury of -that- decision now?" Her voice practically oozed with malice, a far cry from the sobbing mess he had pictured her as. Perhaps even the shy Gryffindor bookworm could be a lioness when pushed too far.

"Upon reading through the contract," Dumbledore began slowly, almost conciliatory in tone. "You'll find that not much is left to choice in this matter." 

Severus sat up a little straighter, eyeing the copies of the contract that lay on the Headmaster's desk. "May I?"

"Of course."

He grabbed the closest one, unrolling the parchment. It was a long contract, he noted absently. Much longer than a normal marriage contract would normally call for.

"I'll kill him. . . " he muttered almost immediately, the initial terms jumping out at him. "Within two weeks, Albus?"

"Two weeks?" Granger snapped, hurrying to snatch her own copy of the contract from the desk.

"You didn't bother to read it before signing?" He couldn't bother to contain the derision from his voice.

Her brown eyes went wide, as if she'd just been slapped rather harshly. And then she did the last thing he would have expected.

She spoke back to him.

"Well, forgive me 'Professor'," her tone betrayed the anger she felt at his title, the situation they were in. "I wasn't exactly given a choice, one way or the other. What did it matter if I signed it without reading?"

Severus felt his lips curl into a sneer. If all else fails, his brain reminded him without preamble, fall back on what you do best. And that, in his case, was a pure mastery of the cold, cruel word.

"I seem to recall hearing that you -did- have a choice, Miss Granger," he smirked. "Myself or Mister Malfoy, wasn't it? What pray tell chose you to choose me? Was it the notion that I would enjoy your company more than he? If so, allow me to put that ridiculous idea to rest --" 

"Enough."

The word was spoken with such soft anger that Severus felt himself flinch involuntarily. Albus rarely got angry, and so far he'd managed to incite that wrath twice in one day. First with wishing Granger would throw herself from the towers, and now. . .this.

"Severus, I realize this is difficult for you. You have made no illusions over the years on how much you loathe students, most especially Gryffindors. And you have also never once failed to hide the fact that you dislike Harry Potter and his friends more than any others, through no fault of their own." 

Severus frowned, lips pressed tightly together lest he dig a hole even deeper than that which he already found himself in. 

"However, I cannot see where this. . .pettiness. . .is going to solve -anything-. So, unless you wish to strike out on your own and abandon her to Mister Malfoy, I would suggest some tact." 

He thought he heard his soon-to-be. . .wife. . ., the world still rankled within him, snort at the mention of tact. He supposed a Gryffindor would think it humorous that he was capable of tact. He was. It just was a rare thing, and not something he felt inclined to show in this circumstance.

"Headmaster --" 

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm leaving the two of you in here to figure this out. I trust you to act like an adult, Severus. And you, Miss Granger, can try a little harder not to bait him so."

The brunette witch sat up straighter in her chair, her brow knitting together and mouth opening for what Severus would be sure to be a firestorm of protests -

Provided the Headmaster let her speak, of course.

Which it did not look like he intended to do.

"Speak your minds. Try to come to an understanding," the aging wizard counseled, much as Severus would imagine a marriage counselor to do in the same situation. "The house elves will bring you anything you need in the meantime."

And then he left.

"Just great," his companion seethed through clenched teeth, arms crossed rather firmly over her chest. "Just bloody great." 

"Language, Miss Granger."

She turned, raising her eyebrows at him. "If any time called for that kind of language, I think this is it. So I shall bloody well curse all that I bloody want to and you can't bloody stop me."

Severus fought the twinge at the corner of his mouth. Fought it to the point that it spread to the other side, quirking it up into a near-smile before he could stop it.

She wasn't just the little bookworm he'd always assumed, he was finding out more and more as the minutes went by.

At least things would be interesting.

"I suggest we start by reading the contract," he murmured after a moment of struggling to force his lips back into the thin line they normally occupied.

She regarded him evenly, as if trying to peer into his very soul, somewhere that he could assure her without a doubt that she did not want to be. Finally, after several long, excruciating moments, she nodded. "Alright, then."

x x x 

Hermione found her heart sinking with every line that she read. It was all hear, in bold black strokes. Her entire life, spelled out to the letter. Where she was to make her permanent residence. When the wedding would be. Even, just as she suspected, how she was to be called. Hermione Snape, it would be.

And then, horror of all horrors, at the very bottom of the contract. The killing stroke to what remained of her pride.

'. . .shall be required to produce an heir within a year of having completed her education at Hogwarts. . .'

That was it, her heart whispered as it broke. The final blow to all that remained of her sense of self. Her dreams and ambitions were nothing. She quietly rolled up the parchment, stuffing it listlessly into her pocket, only to find that Snape had finished before she had.

And he looked no more pleased about the state of things.

"Is there no way to talk him out of . . .some of that?" She sighed, gesturing at the contract that he still had. "I had wanted to go to Academy after this."

His lips pressed out into a small, sarcastic version of a smile, causing her to shiver from the coldness of it. "No. Asking my father to do anything he does not already wish to do is pointless."

"Wonderful," she sighed. The tears were coming back; she could feel them behind her eyes, just waiting for the wrong moment to strike. She didn't want to cry in front of him, to show that weakness. "So. . .that's it, then." 

"It appears so." He rolled up the parchment, shoving it angrily into an inner pocket of his robes. He then turned his hand to a spot just inside the chest of the robe, to what appeared to be an inner pocket.

A ring was not something she had envisioned herself as receiving when this entire thing began, so it came as somewhat of a shock to find that he was holding one out to her.

"My father sent this to me a week ago," he sneered, gesturing for her to take it from his fingers. "In hopes that I'd find someone to give it to. I should have started getting suspicious, then, it seems."

She took the ring gingerly, looking at the rather impressive center stone, a flawless diamond. It was flanked on either side by emeralds just as bright and sparkling, and set into a band of gold.

"It was my mother's, before your intolerable curiosity forces you to ask," he offered, somewhat snidely. "And, as the contract states in so veiled of terms, you will be required to wear it."

'Wear this or else' wasn't exactly the type of proposal she had always dreamed of, but it would have to do. She slipped the ring onto her left ring finger, feeling the band adjust to the proper size. Of course it was magical. No simple diamond solitaire for this witch, she was to be the lady of a manor house, complete with the very house elves she had tried so hard to free over the years. Perhaps she'd be able to convince one or more of her own personal set to take clothes in between doing such mundane things as . . .well, what –did- house witches do with themselves during the day? Perhaps she'd have to ask Draco's mother when she saw her on the social circuit. 

'I'm sorry, ma'm, but I was just wondering what a Death Eater's wife is supposed to do with herself when her husband isn't there to whip her into submission,' her brain reeled off the absurd question into her mind before she could stop it.

She giggled, somewhat hysterically, slapping a hand over her mouth in mortification. But Snape hardly seemed to have notice that she was having a breakdown.

"I will accompany you to your parents this evening to inform them of what has happened." 

"Tonight?" She managed to squeak, the giggles subsiding immediately. Tonight was so soon. Too soon, even. She needed to get up a good measure of courage to tell her daddy that his precious baby girl was not only getting married, but to a man old enough to -be- her father.

"Waiting will not make it any easier," he shrugged, but whether or not he cared how 'easy' it was for her was unclear. She doubted it, just as she doubted this semi-peace that had settled between them, dulled only by the sharp edge of Snape's dry tone, would last.

"And the wedding?" She offered blandly. "Will we do that with a Ministry official here at the school or somewhere else?"

He sighed, regarding her evenly. For once he looked almost like any other man might in his position - tired and worn. But the mask was back up almost immediately, his trademark sneer firmly in place. "You will want a dress and all of that nonsense, I assume?"

It was difficult not to snap at him that 'no', she didn't want those things. Just to be contrary she wanted to say that, to throw it in his face that she wasn't that type of girl. That she didn't care for the flowers and pageantry that was supposed to come with this, one of the most important days of her life.

But her mouth just wouldn't work to say those words - because they weren't true. She wanted the dress and the flowers. And a moonlit wedding, by a lake. 

"I don't." She forced out slowly.

He rolled his eyes. "Do not be difficult with me, Miss Granger. Do you want the blood dress and flowers or not?"

She shook her head, denying her heart the opinion it so most wanted to voice. "Why bother? I can't act like this is my dream wedding, sir; because its not."

"As you wish," Snape shrugged. "We will have it at the manor, with a Ministry official. I will arrange a portkey for your parents."

"And my friends?" Hermione found herself asking quickly, before she had a good change to think the question through. She watched his face go from passive to cold in the blink of an eye.

"And by friends I assume you mean Potter and Weasley?"

She nodded. "And Ginny, of course."

"Of course," he drawled, eyes glittering. "If you feel it necessary to invite them, I will not stop you. Provided they still wish to associate with you once they learn the news."

And there it was, her greatest fear slapped down in front of her, in the open air, like a wound with salt applied to it. She bit the inside of her cheek, those stubborn tears near falling with that harsh jab.

"They'll understand," she whispered; furious with herself for crying and him for making her do so.

"Will they?" She saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye, through the blur of another salty tear. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I pray that you have no illusions about the rest of your House, however? Or the rest of the school? Have you given a thought to what this marriage means?"

x x x 

He knew the answer to the question before he even asked it, much as he did in class. It was a simple game to him, baiting her into these more complex emotions, making her think through the pain he was inflicting with his words. For there was always thought, even during a blind haze of crying, there was thought. And right now she was thinking through what he said.

Good. 

This was the important part.

"You cannot tell them what you know about the Order," he continued on, ignoring her tearful sniffles. "And that means that the Gryffindors will see this only as you turning down Malfoy to marry your greasy git of a Professor. The Hufflepuffs will openly console you, of course; though they titter behind your back. The Ravenclaws, studious though they may be, are back biting and selfish when it comes down to it. They will think you got your grades from doing me certain. . .favors."

She gasped and he allowed himself a small inner cheer, readying the next blow to her fragile emotional walls. It was more of the pettiness Dumbledore wanted him to move beyond, he was sure. But it helped stave off the turmoil bubbling in his own soul, and for that alone he was willing to do it.

"And let us not forget my House. The Slytherins. They will expect you to behave as befits a Slytherin wife. Obedient to me in all things. Cunning. Deceitful. A perfect ornament at social functions." 

Her wide eyes met his, straight on, and he could see in them the fear of what he was saying. Social functions. He forgot sometimes that she knew about what he did in his 'free time'. And of course she would wonder what horrors were to be inflicted upon her in the form of his 'associates'.

"Don't be ridiculous," he sneered, rolling his eyes. "They'll know you were forced into this and are still loyal to Potter. Don't expect to be dragged off to a revel any time soon."

He said 'any time soon', because there was no way he could guarantee that it would never happen. The Dark Lord commanded as the Dark Lord wished. And if he wanted to meet Severus' new bride, then that was the way it would be.

And he wouldn't even think on the wrath he was going to incur for going through with this marriage. Even Lucius must have thought that through before sending Draco's contract for her hand. The Dark Lord would not be pleased about his impending vows to a muggleborn, whether or not it was any of his doing. Then there was the child that was expected of this union. It wasn't common knowledge, but the children of Death Eaters were expected to then grow up to join the ranks themselves.

The war would be over long before the child reached the proper age, though, he reminded himself. Either that or he'd be dead and she'd be free of his family and his associates. 

Not a comforting thought, but death was something he'd resigned himself to a long time before. The only difference now was that he'd be leaving behind a family of sorts.

"Are you up to the task, Miss Granger?" He hissed. "Revels or not, this will be far from a walk in the proverbial park."

"Don't worry about me," she snapped, and it was almost strong enough that he believed her.

Almost.

"Very well," he shrugged. "I would suggest we summon the Headmaster and arrange for our escape. I am assuming you'll want to tell Potter and Weasley prior to the announcement at dinner tonight?" 

"Announcement?"

He winced, her squeaking tone somewhat grating on his ears. "Correct. Did you think to keep this in the dark until the vows were complete? I assure you, Malfoy will not be willing to keep our little secret."

"His father is the one that made the request," she argued with a shake of her head. "Draco probably doesn't even know." 

"Yet," Severus nodded. "Draco doesn't know -yet-, and that's already assuming far too much considering how quickly news travels. Be that as it may, however, the Ministry routinely prints the outcomes of such contracts in the Daily Prophet."

She paled, clutching the arm of her chair. "I need to tell them before he does. Or before they hear it from someone else, period."

"I would imagine so," Severus smirked, pulling his wand from his pocket to summon a house elf so that they could locate the Headmaster and get out of this stiflingly cheery little room. "I will come by your room after dinner to take you to your parents."

She nodded, staring down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. This was a difficult time, undoubtedly. She still had classes to finish, and now was being forced into a sham of a marriage because his father felt it was 'best'. For once quick moment he almost felt bad for her.

Just for a second, though; then it was gone as quick as any other fleeting feeling of good nature.

He had enough to do with feeling sorry for himself.

x x x End Part x x x


	4. Chapter 4

x x x Contractual Obligations: Chapter Fourx x x

She was fidgeting when the Headmaster led Ron and Harry into the office. Her fingers had gotten a mind of their own somewhere between the time he left to retrieve them and the time they returned; and try as she might she could not get them to stop. A nervous gesture, she supposed; but one she did not want or need at this point.

"Where've you been all day, 'Mione?" Ron frowned, falling bonelessly into the chair nearest her. "We wanted to go look for you when you didn't show up for Transfiguration, but McGonagall --"

"-Professor- McGonagall," Hermione corrected automatically, forcing her hands to stay clasped in her lap. Even now she didn't want to let on that something was wrong, though they'd know soon enough. Keep up appearances, wasn't that what she'd always told herself? Make everyone think that things are fine and they will be. You just have to weather the storm with silent strength.

But this was no storm she could weather. It was a hurricane, and she was in the center, watching the winds build around her.

"Right, she said that you were working on a project," he finished with a shrug. "I don't remember you saying anything about a project at breakfast."

She sighed, shaking her head even as she sought out Harry's eyes. Green to brown they met, one with worry, the other with anxiety.

"Please sit, Harry," Dumbledore pointed to the other chair in the room. "I believe Miss Granger has something she wishes to tell you."

Hermione nodded, averting her eyes from Harry's. It was too hard, this feeling that she had in the pit of her stomach, like a sense of foreboding. Her entire world was being turned on its head, and these two were the only ones she could even hope would understand.

But. . .would they?

"Right, then," Harry began slowly, taking a seat. "What's wrong?"

"What. . ." she forced a laugh to her lips, hoping it didn't sound as hollow to them as it did to her own ears. "What makes you think something is wrong?"

They shared a look with each other, their eyes slowly returning to her.

"You've picked a hole in your robe," Harry pointed. She glanced down, blushing. There it was. A hole, definitely noticeable. The little frayed edges showed signs of the incessant picking her fingers had been wont to do since that morning.

"Oh," she smiled weakly. "I --"

She stopped, and silence filled the room. All eyes were on her - Harry's, Ron's, Dumbledore's - but she didn't have the slightest clue what to say. She sighed, licking her lips. Her hands were at it again, playing with that same hole that Harry had pointed out to her.

"Would you like me to tell them, Miss Granger?"

The brunette's eyes flew up to the Headmaster, her chest falling as she exhaled sharply. It would all be easier if he told them, right? 

No.

She shook her head.

"I can do this. Thank you."

The aging wizard nodded, gesturing for her to continue. Or get on with it, she supposed. It wasn't as if she'd begun at all up to that point. And they were still watching, waiting. Trying to be patient with her, even though Ron looked as though he might get up and shake her senseless if she didn't tell them what was going on soon.

"You know that Marriage Law that the Ministry just enacted?" She began slowly.

Ron snorted. "Know about it? Mum owled last week ranting about it. Says that there's no way she'd wanted any of us to marry someone just to get the blood untainted or whatever's going through the Ministry's thick heads."

Hermione smiled, looking to Harry for his reaction to her statement.

"Who is it?" The Boy Who Lived asked without preamble.

She sucked in a breath. That wasn't what she'd expected. Then again, he always had put two and two together a little quicker than Ron. Even now he was watching her with those great green eyes, wide and full of worry for her. Her lips turned up in a sad smile.

"Two wizards asked for me . . .on behalf of their sons. . . Lucius Malfoy for Draco and Alessander Snape for Professor Snape."

Their sharp intake of breath filled the air in the immediate silence her words left. She turned her eyes away, unable to meet their now pity-filled gazes.

"You chose Snape, right?" Harry muttered. He leaned forward, grabbing her hand and squeezing gently until she faced him again. His eyes were pleading. "Please tell me you chose Snape. I know he's not the nicest - but he's better than Malfoy."

"At least Malfoy's her own age," Ron cut in with a disgusted shake of his head. "Snape's a greasy old man, 'Mione."

"And Draco is a Death Eater." Harry frowned. He let go of Hermione's hand and turned to face the red haired wizard. "Snape's at least got his priorities straight."

Hermione sighed, listening as the two of them debated the pros and cons of each. Harry on Snape's side, Ron on Draco's for reasons she couldn't ponder. He'd look back on this later, she was sure, and feel sick for defending Draco's imaginary honor. She offered Dumbledore a weak smile, as if to say that their reaction was better than she'd hoped for. At least one of them was seeing her way of things, even if the other might take some time to win over.

The Headmaster inclined his head, a silent agreement to the unspoken thoughts that were racing through her mind.

And then it hit her, maybe she'd been looking at this the wrong way from the moment Snape reminded her she had to tell the boys. Maybe it wasn't telling -them- that was the part she should be anxious about. They were her friends, after all. True friends, the type that would save you from a troll or defeat the Dark Lord to save you.

No, she needed to worry about what the other students were going to say.

"Oh, Merlin," she moaned softly, pulling her legs up into the chair, as if to wrap herself in a little ball and hide from the outside world.

The talking stopped. The arguing just ceased, like a switch had been thrown.

"Aw, 'Mione," Ron sighed. She heard some movement, and then he was kneeling in front of her, looking up into her face. "I'm sorry. I don't care if you chose the greasy git over the rabid ferret."

She sniffled, her heart wrenching back and forth from happiness that they still wanted to be her friend, to agony over what was to happen in only a few hours. The entire student body was going to be told, Professors included. She would have to sit there, feel them staring at her.

And then. . .

Then the days after that?

Snape was right, of course. The easier course of action was by no means the easiest. Marrying him would protect her body and mind so much as was able during these times, but it would by no means be an easy way out. The Ravenclaws would wonder, the Hufflepuffs would console. The Gryffindors would be angry and confused. And the Slytherins -

Well, she couldn't even begin to comprehend how they would react.

"It's going to be alright," Harry patted her arm. She hadn't even heard him stand up, much less move next to her chair.

"No it won't," she shook her head. "My life is over. . ."

"No!" Ron cried, face screwing into thin, quick lines of anger. "Your life is not over. Snape won't hurt you. He won't stop you from doing what you want. Harry's right - he's not nice, but that doesn't mean --"

Hermione sighed, a quick shake of her head cutting off Ron's protests in midstream. "He doesn't have to - the contract his father drew up makes Professor Snape doing anything personally unnecessary."

"What do you mean?" Harry frowned. "I thought the Law only made you marry him, not obey him."

"It doesn't, per se," the Gryffindor witch nodded, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. It was ruined anyhow, a little salty water couldn't do much damage. "But the one making the proposal is free to add certain. . .guidelines. . .to the marriage."

"Like --" Ron prompted slowly, rising to his feet.

"Like. . .when the marriage has to happen, what I have to wear to signify the union," she held up her left hand, letting the ring she had tried to hide up until that point sparkle in the candlelight. "And. . .you know, other stuff."

She avoided the obvious with as much will as she could, refusing to dwell on the entire matter of children until it was absolutely necessary. Harry and Ron, as close as they were to her, didn't need to know those things. Let them blithely assume that she wouldn't have to get within a room's length of Snape after they were married if that's what they liked. Only she and Snape knew different. And this matter, above all else, concerned only them.

Her tears began to flow more freely now, trailing down her cheeks in wet, sloppy lines.

"Here, eat this," Ron offered when the first sob tore from her lips, shoving a piece of chocolate into her hand. Without even thinking about it, she eyed the wrapper warily, blinking blurrily at the bit of wax paper for any signs of his ever notorious brothers' trademark. Ron chuckled, "It's just chocolate! I swear!"

The brunette felt herself grin just a bit, the normality of such a random thing breaking through the walls of pain that had been building inside her. She popped the chocolate into her mouth, letting the warm gooeyness fill her tastebuds with the rich cocoa flavor. Slowly she felt her body ease up a bit, the uncontrollable urge to tuck in on herself receding gradually as the tears lessened. Chocolate, as ever, was a miracle worker.

"One way or another," Harry murmured, reaching down to hug her. "This will be okay. Maybe not alright, I can admit. But 'okay'."

She nodded, returning the hug. 

"Even if it is Snape," Ron chimed in, making the hug three way as he wrapped his well-toned arms around her from the other side. "We've gotten through worse than this, you know."

Hermione snorted. "You make it sound like homework. . . or a battle."

"It is," the red haired wizard smiled broadly, but his eyes were serious. "When everyone finds out - it'll be us versus the school. I won't let anyone talk bad about you for this."

"He's right," Harry nodded. "Though. . . it might help that your husband," he choked over the word, face reddening. ". . .is the most feared Professor in the whole school."

"Do not forget that myself and Professor McGonagall are also here for you if you experience any. . difficulties," the Headmaster spoke up, reminding the teens that he was still present in the room.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Hermione sighed. "And you, two, too. You're the best. I was so scared --"

"That we'd abandon you?" Harry frowned. "You always think the worst things first, don't you?"

"It's a gift, I guess," she shrugged.

"Yes, well --"

Ron's words died off as a large grey-black owl dove in through the window, narrowly missing his head with its large, erratic sweep of the room. It landed without further preamble on Dumbledore's desk, shaking out feathers damp from the light misting rain falling outside.

The Headmaster's brow creased as he pulled off the piece of rolled parchment from the owl's leg, reading over it quickly.

"An unexpected turn of events becomes even more convoluted," Dumbledore frowned, passing the parchment to Hermione. She glanced through the short paragraph, face paling.

"What is it?" Ron was the first to ask, breaking through the gloomy thoughts already running rampant through her brain. She licked her lips, passing the parchment to Harry.

"It's from the Ministry - Snape and I are to appear immediately. Lucius Malfoy is contesting the validity of his claim."

x x x End Partx x x


	5. Chapter 5

x x x Contractual Obligationsx x x 

It was a solemn group that made their way to the Ministry. Dumbledore had chosen to accompany them, something Hermione couldn't have been happier for. It would have been awful to deal with just Snape in this matter.

Especially since she hadn't a clue what was going on. She'd been given the options and she'd made her choice. Draco wasn't the choice, no matter what his father wanted. Had her choice only been Draco she would have much rather renounced her ties with this world and moved on. Living as a battered witch didn't strike her mind as the ideal way to spend the rest of her life.

And now even that one choice, the only tiny spark in a day of gloom, was being contested. It figured, it really did. She crossed her arms sourly, glaring about the tiny room the Ministry had set aside for this hearing. There was nothing Lucius Malfoy could do, or so Dumbledore said. But Snape would be required to speak, most likely. As would she. Perhaps even the Headmaster himself would be taking the stand in defense of her choice, though she hoped it would not come to that.

She just didn't know.

She didn't even know the basis for the contesting, for that matter. All the owl from the Ministry had said was for her and her betrothed to arrive with haste at the Ministry for a hearing.

Well, here she was.

And the Ministry officials presiding over the hearing were no where in sight.

For that matter, neither was Lucius Malfoy.

Or Draco – if he was going to be here in the first place. She certainly hadn't heard as much from Dumbledore. For that matter she didn't think the Headmaster himself had much clue to what this was all about. After all, the letter was all he had to go on, as well.

"Just remember to keep your cool," she heard Dumbledore murmuring to Snape in a whisper she was sure she wasn't supposed to over hear. "I know how Lucius irritates you –"

Snape snorted, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He had his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Long, pale fingers were intertwined in his lap. "Irritates –me-, Albus? I thought you were the one that got the urge to hex him every time he stepped in the room."

Hermione snorted, biting back her laughter at the last moment before it threatened to bubble from her lips. In a day of such solemnity it was far too amusing to hear her Headmaster spoken to in such a way. With such irreverence, almost jokingly. Like the two of them were friends, despite the fact that she'd never seen it before this point.

"Something amusing, Miss Granger?"

The witch froze, her gaze darting to Snape. Her husband to be was glaring at her, eyes dark. She could almost see it written on his face that he was irritated with having to waste this time here, or that he was even more so vexed because she had overheard him speaking to Dumbledore.

"No, sir," she whispered, shaking her head. She sighed, turning her attention back to the room. Cramped and crowded, it was nothing like she'd thought it would be. There was a long desk at the front of the room, with seven seats behind it. One large in the center, and three two either side. A narrow aisle led from the back of the room, where the doors were, to the front. On either side of that aisle were wooden benches. At the point where the aisle met the front of the room there was a small wooden podium. That was where those that were called to speak would stand, right there in front of the officials, looking them in the eyes while trying to put their best face forward.

It was enough to make her stomach lurch.

The door swung open, knocking back into the wall behind it. Almost as if previously choreographed, Hermione turned with Snape and Dumbledore, watching as the Ministry officials filed in, followed by a very smug looking Lucius Malfoy. She swallowed nervously, pushing down the bile in the back of her throat. No reason to be worried. She'd signed the contract already. It was a set deal.

At least – she hoped it was.

x x x 

"Lucius Malfoy – you are here to contest the contract between Severus Snape and Hermione Granger?" 

Snape watched through slitted eyes as the man he had once called his friend stood, toying with his cane idly, as if this entire matter were no big deal. As if he thought he would surely win his contest.

"I have, that is correct."

The high official for the proceedings, a tall dark-haired wizard that Severus couldn't recall the name of, nodded. "You are aware that a marriage contract, once signed, may not be broken except under extraordinary circumstances, of course."

"Of course," Lucius' smile grew. "And I believe that I can present just that, in light of the remarkable witch at the heart of the matter." 

Snape felt the air choke up in his lungs, wondering how much pride and pain it had cost Lucius to say just that – about a muggleborn witch that his son had hated for nigh on seven years. 

"Very well," the high official sighed. "Please state your case for contesting this contract."

"I fear that the terms of this contract will inhibit one of the. . . brightest. . .witches we've seen in decades, your Honor," Lucius managed with a smile, though Snape could see that the effort of speaking so highly about someone he looked down on was beginning to take its toll. The other wizard had a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, and was grasping the edge of the podium with all his might.

"For instance. . . ?" The leading official prompted, clearly unimpressed by this rather vague assumption. From where he was sitting Snape could see that the Ministry officials looked decidedly bored.

"Her schooling," Lucius answered smoothly. "The contract that Alessander Snape has offered will limit her in a rather severe capacity – dictating not only where she must reside, but also when she must conceive by. This would almost certainly prohibit her from attaining any further schooling outside of that which she receives during her last months at Hogwarts. I believe I'm not alone in stating that this would be a tragedy to the wizarding world, to loose such a bright star."

Please, Severus thought acidly, feeling his stomach heave. Lucius would undoubtedly be washing his mouth out with a rather severe soap when he got home. Saying such things – and about a Gryffindor muggleborn, at that!

"Ah," the lead official nodded. He leaned to his left, listening as the witch on that side whispered into his ear. After a moment he sat back up, shaking his head. "It has been brought to my attention that your own contract does not contain matters so far as a child is concerned, however the residence is limited to any one of the Malfoy estates."

"Some of which are within easy traveling distance of the more illustrious Academies." Malfoy smiled winningly, flashing pearly whites at the officials, as if they were all made of clay that he could mold to his will. Severus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting out loud. Lucius may have been a heavy contributor to many a Ministry campaign, but not for anyone currently sitting on the panel, with the exception of one – a wiry haired old man at the very end who was being all but ignored by his fellows.

"Very well, point taken," the official nodded, scribbling notes on the papers in front of him. "Professor Snape – have you anything to say in defense of the contract your father submitted on your behalf?"

He wanted, almost more than anything, to say 'no', that he had nothing to say in regards to a contract he had neither wanted nor seen prior to that morning. He wanted to tell them to summon his father here, out of drafty old Snape Manor, and force him to give his reasoning why his son was a better match than Draco Malfoy.

But he didn't.

Standing quickly, Severus moved to the podium, not bothering to glance at Lucius Malfoy. Or Granger. Let her wonder what he was going to say. Let it be a mystery to her up to the very point he opened his mouth and decided for himself.

"As you are all aware, my father submitted the contract on my behalf, just as Lucius Malfoy did for his son, Draco." Severus began slowly, meeting the eyes of the officials one by one. He leaned on the podium, hand to either side, staring them down just as he would one of his own students. "And there are certain stipulations that both myself and Miss Granger are aware of, however she has chosen to proceed despite those hinderances."

That should tell them something of who the Malfoys were, if they didn't already know, he told himself with a dark smirk. That this girl would rather marry her aged professor than a boy her own age said volumes in itself, without any testimony. 

"And to Mister Malfoy's claims that Miss Granger will be unable to further her education under the terms of your contract?" One of the lesser officials queried, her voice high and trembling. "He is right in stating that she is a bright star among her peers – and we need witches like that in this day and age."

Severus ground his teeth together, breathing in deeply through his nose for a moment before speaking again.

"Though Snape Manor will be designated as her residence, just as it is mine, Miss Granger will be joining me in residence at Hogwarts – where I am ensured that there will be no lack of Professors willing to take her on as an Apprentice should she wish to continue her education."

"Including yourself?" The high official asked quietly. Severus met his grey eyes unflinchingly, though he dreaded the words that were to come from his mouth.

"Of course."

The officials nodded as one, murmuring amongst themselves. "Miss Granger – have you anything to say in regards to your decision?"

x x x 

Hermione stood slowly, eyes to the floor as she moved to the podium. She was all too aware that Professor Snape was just a few steps behind her, his body between her and Lucius Malfoy should the sometimes unstable wizard decide to do anything untoward. She didn't know what she would say when this was all over to him for the defense that he provided seemingly from nowhere. Even to the extent that he agreed he would accept her in an apprenticeship if required.

"Only time will tell if I made the correct decision this morning," she addressed the Ministry's panel with a voice that she was proud to say didn't waver so much as a fraction. "However I believed it then, and still do, to be the best choice for my future. As Professor Snape stated, there are any number of professionals that I may learn from at Hogwarts."

"Neither contract is what I would have chosen for my life, however given the current circumstances and the law that was enacted, I may only make what decisions are available. I stand by my choice of Professor Snape."

The head official nodded, regarding her without mirth. "We are all too aware of the difficult position that you have been placed in, Miss Granger. And you have sympathies from most of our number."

It took every ounce of composure she could summon not to yell and scream that they were amongst the very same law makers that had helped pass the bloody law. She wanted to spit in his oh so 'compassionate' face, smack him, do anything to wipe that falsified emotion from him.

But she didn't. She stood still, waiting for him to continue, aware of Dumbledore and Snape also waiting. Malfoy would be gloating, as he was wont to do. He just had that eternal cocky optimism that came from getting everything he wanted in life. This could only go his way, of course; at least in his eyes. She wasn't so sure. The officials hadn't seemed all that impressed by his reasoning. 

"This was a fool's errand, Mister Malfoy. The contract has been signed and there is nothing within it to persuade this council to overturn it. Therefore we rule that the contract submitted by Alessander Snape will proceed as previously agreed upon."

It was a victory, she realized. A real victory. Yet, it felt like a consolation prize in her eyes. She didn't have to wed Draco. She still had to marry Snape. And the world was still turning. Only a couple hours until dinner and then she'd be telling her parents after that.

Her life could still, very well, fall apart. 

She turned stiffly, making her way past Malfoy and out of the room without a word of thanks to the councilors what had they really done, in the end, other than uphold her sentence – life in the prison known as matrimony. Her jailor? Professor Severus Snape.

x x x 

"I'll be along in a minute, sir," Severus murmured to Dumbledore, inclining his head ever so discreetly to where Lucius waited, still sitting, on the other side of the room. 

"What game are you playing, Snape?" the blonde haired wizard hissed the moment the room had cleared. "Our Lord will not be pleased by this."

"No more so than if you'd allowed Draco to marry the mudblood," Severus sneered, rolling his eyes. "Is it my fault she chose myself over your lout of a son? Perhaps if he had not made her life miserable for these last years." 

Lucius' face reddened. "And why should he have been nice to –her- of all people? She's friends with Potter. A mudblood. A good for nothing little Gryffindor. What do you propose to do with her, hmm? She'll sic the crazy old man on you the moment she finds out what you really are."

"So I don't let her find out. Did you think it would be any easier for your son? Keeping her in Malfoy Manor like some toy bride while our associates reveled below? I think not." Severus glanced around sharply, as if suddenly paranoid of where they stood. He was surprised that Lucius, for all that he was usually so careful, would dare speak of these things in the Ministry itself, as if he were above reproach. "We speak too openly here."

Lucius frowned, but his own eyes darted around. "You're right, of course. This isn't over, Snape." 

Severus bit his tongue, lips spreading into a tight thin line as he watched his one time friend sweep from the room. He had no doubt that Malfoy would stir up some spot of trouble for him before the next meeting. And there would be pain, he was sure of it. 

"Everything taken care of?" Dumbledore muttered under his breath as Severus rejoined their group. Granger was standing a few meters away, arms crossed over her chest. She looked as though at any moment she would either throw a fit or cry. He wasn't sure that he wanted either, as they'd both result in nothing less than an ever worsening headache at this point.

"You know Lucius and his threats," he nodded. "There'll be hell to pay come the next revel. I wouldn't be surprised if my marriage is the center of festivities."

The Headmaster, he noted, had the good grace to pale, at least. Festivities at a revel often meant torture, or worse.

"But we'll deal with that when it comes," he smiled thinly. His day was ruined. His life ruined.

And the night was only going to get worse.

x x x End Partx x x


	6. Chapter 6

x x x Contractual Obligations x x x   
They apparated just outside the school gates, reality rushing back in a snap that left Hermione feeling sick and cold. Everything seemed different now. Even the school that she loved, in the light of the setting sun, seemed foreign and altogether unfriendly. She took a step back from Snape, ignoring the frown on his face. If he could have apparated her from the Ministry to here without touching her so closely, she had no doubt that he would. This was no more pleasant for him than it was for her, she reminded herself, when the causticness of her thoughts began to run too deeply. Perhaps even more so.

"'Mione!" 

She turned, blinking into the dusky twilight as two familiar figures ran towards her, the Headmaster and Snape.

"Thank Merlin," Ron panted, coming to a stop next to her. "We've been watching for you for hours."

Hermione bit back a sharp retort that they hadn't been gone -that- long, choosing to focus instead on the obvious.

"What's going on?" 

"Malfoy," Harry frowned, sparing a glance for first the Headmaster, then Snape. "He's told the whole school already."

"They. . .know?" Words were failing her now, when she needed them the most. Suddenly the school, which had already looked so foreign moments before, took on a new appearance to her startled, fragile mind. Like a house of horrors that would suddenly spring to life at any minute.

"It's not good," Harry whispered, for her ears only, though she was all too aware that Dumbledore and Snape were standing close enough to hear him anyway. "The Gryffindors are in an uproar. So are the Slytherins, for that matter. Rumors have already started about how --"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand, shaking her head furiously. "I don't want to hear it."

"You'll need to eventually, Miss Granger," Dumbledore sighed, weariness in his tone. "Unless you plan on spending the rest of the term outside of the gates? Even then I cannot guarantee that your classmates won't seek an opportunity to come down here to heckle you."

Hermione flushed with annoyed anger. He was right, of course. She couldn't just stand down here forever. Eventually she would have to go up there and listen to what they were saying, be the centerpiece for their ridiculous taunts and leers. She shuddered. 

"I believe this would be the appropriate time to tell your parents, then?"

She wasn't the only one that heard a touch of. . .softness. . in Snape's voice as he spoke what should have been damning words. Both Ron and Harry looked as if they'd swallowed a lemon, eyes equally wide with shock. It was the first time that day when he'd spoken with anything outside of mocking derision or forced civility and, even now, it sounded less kind than anything she would usually label as such. Kindness did not run through his veins - at least not what she would classify as such. Perhaps this was the closest he ever came, and she should just be happy for what it was and not wish for more.

Wishing was futile, after all. Whether or not his cold facade ever melted was inconsequential considering there was no alternative. They would be wed, with or without smiles. Definitely without, she amended silently.

"Miss Granger? Your parents?"

Ah, there was the Snape she knew and anything but loved. The sneer was back, and she realized with a start that he was still waiting for an answer from her. So were Harry, Ron, and the Headmaster. All looking at her, all waiting for her to say something.

But she didn't want to go. She didn't want to tell her mother and father that she was getting married to. . .to. . . him! In her mind she sounded like a whining child - but that was all she could manage to feel.

Yet, she wasn't a whining child. She was seventeen years of age, nearly eighteen. In another few months she'd be a graduate of Hogwarts. And in less time than that she would most certainly be married, even if it wasn't of her own choice. She no longer had time for the luxuries of childhood.

Her parents had to be told. Tonight. Before somehow, some way, word got back to them. It wasn't impossible, for all that they didn't subscribe to any wizarding papers or receive any guests from her world.

"Yes," she nodded slowly. "A good of time as any, I suppose. Thank you for coming out to warn me, Harry . . .Ron. I'll be back shortly."

Without even thinking, she stepped closer to Professor Snape, lightly touching his shirt as he laid a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes shut and a moment later the sick feeling of apparating closed over her. She'd have to get her own apparating license soon enough, she thought as they came to a stop in front of her parents' home. It wasn't something she was good at, though, and she'd held off as long as she could from taking the test. That wouldn't be practical now.

In silence they walked to the front door, not discussing what was to be said or how it should be conveyed. It seemed a given that this wouldn't go well, and she didn't have it in her heart to hope for anything else. Her father would be furious. Her mother. . .scandalized.

And really there was nothing she could do, short of giving up her place in the wizarding world. Which they would want, should they be given notice that it was an option.

Well, she just wouldn't tell them and trust that Professor Snape would remain his usual, unhelpful self.

She pushed the doorbell, fingers plucking absently at the edge of her coat. Sighing, she made a mental effort to stop. If she kept on this way she'd have nothing left in the way of clothes, except piles of torn fabric and bits of string.

The door opened, spilling warm, golden light from the house to the front steps.

"Hermione!"

It was her mother she heard first, and then her father echoing from the den. She forced a smile on her face, knowing that it wouldn't hold for long.

"Hullo, Mum."

Her mother frowned. "Shouldn't you be in school, sweetie? And who's this?"

Hermione stepped inside as her mother swung the door open, gesturing for Professor Snape to do the same.

"My Potions Professor." 

"Oh, how wonderful," her mother's smile faltered, and Hermione knew why. She'd heard the tales of Snape. His injustices and biases. Of all the Professors she could have brought home, this was the one her parents would be least thrilled with. Her mother glanced over her shoulder as footsteps sounded on the polished wood floor of the hall. Her father was joining them. "Hermione brought one of her Professors to visit, dear."

"Oh, which one?" Her father smiled, holding out his hand. 

"Potions."

"Ah."

Hermione glanced sideways, unsurprised to see that Snape's glare had deepened. 

"Why're you home, pumpkin?" her dad offered, tilting his head towards the living room. "Not that we're not glad to see you --"

"But I should be in school," Hermione finished with a sigh. "Mum, Dad - I've got something to tell you. And it won't be easy to hear."

They frowned, looking back and forth between one another as they took a seat on the loveseat, leaving her and Snape with the couch across from them. She sat down gingerly, resisting the urge to plot out the quickest path from here to the doorway, just in case.

"Well, you see. . . They passed this new law in the wizarding world decreeing that a pureblood may issue a marriage contract on a muggleborn witch or wizard. The witch or wizard in question is unable to turn down the contract, of course. It's binding from the moment the pureblood issues it."

"That's barbaric!" her father muttered, eyes dark. "I can't believe that your Minister would let such a thing happen."

Her mother was quiet, and Hermione could almost see the knowledge dawning her eyes, slowly - like the sun rising in the morning.

"You've been. . . contracted?" Her mother whispered.

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

Her father shook his head. "I won't allow this to happen."

"You don't have a choice." 

Hermione winced as Snape laid the facts bare with all the tact and reserve of a street walker. Her father's face went from pale white to beet red in an instant, the quickest she'd ever seen him get angry.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said that you don't have a choice in the matter," Snape replied back silkily, without so much as a batted lash over the way her father was behaving. Unflappable, that's what he was. Or perhaps inhuman. "Hermione is the one with the power in this situation. Even common muggle law dictates that she may choose her suitor at her age, does it not?"

And it did. Wizarding law was eighteen, which she met by wizarding standards - and muggle law was seventeen, which she more than met. It had only been changed to eighteen in her world with this new law going into effect - a weak effort to keep all the lecherous old wizards from snatching up girls that were no more than entering their first year.

A lose-lose situation is what she was in.

"Who is it?"

"Hmm?" Hermione bit her lip, knowing fully well what her mother had asked. She tore her eyes from her father's red face to look into her mother's sad eyes. "What was that, mum?"

"Who is it? The wizard that made the contract. . . . Is it someone we know? That Ron boy, perhaps?"

"No," Hermione shook her head sadly. "Though his mum would gladly have thrown one of the boys at me if she'd known this was going to happen. I. . . brought him here tonight. To meet you."

The words came out in a rush, and she glanced between their faces, hoping for comprehension to come without her having to spell it out for them. 

"Is he still outside?" Her mother asked, standing almost immediately. "The poor boy is going to freeze to death." 

"No," Hermione shook her head, standing without thinking. She sighed, glancing from her mother to her father. "Professor Snape is the one with the contract."

Her father was up and moving before she could even think to pull her wand. Certainly she hadn't expected a physical attack from him. Not on herself or Snape, for that matter. And, judging by the fact that her rather formidable Professor was also caught offguard, he had not expected it, either. Her father's fist landed hard on Snape's jaw, snapping his head back and to the side. She gasped and, without thinking about the consequences, put herself between the two men. 

"That. Is. Enough." She forced between teeth clenched tight. She feared that loosening that stranglehold on her mouth would let the tears break free. "He didn't -ask- for this, you know. His father issued the contract for me. Which he can do. That's the right a wizarding father has over their sons. Sick, isn't it? Twisted. I have no choice. He has no choice! There is no bloody choice!"

Her screaming left the room in silence, both of her parents looking at her as if they'd only just noticed her, for the first time. Like all of her life she'd lived under a veil and now that it was gone, they just weren't sure what to do.

"He didn't choose you?" Her mother asked quietly.

"No. His father did." Hermione repeated patiently. She'd had all day to muddle through this, after all. They'd had less than ten minutes. 

"Why? Why you? I though most purebloods hate muggles and --"

"Muggleborns," she finished for her father. "And - I don't know why."

"Because you are who you are," Snape growled. He was holding his jaw and there was a spot of blood at the corner of his mouth. She felt her face heat up with embarassment over her father's actions and turned her head back so that she could stare at the floor. "You are bright and powerful and any wizard would see that as an asset, as you can guess. However, that is just a guess, considering he did not consult me prior to making a fool of me!"

She flinched, but nodded. "Of course."

"Of course." Her mother echoed, only her father choosing to remain silent now. She hoped that he was regretting what he'd done.

"We should get going," she whispered. "Madam Pomfrey will need a look at that. I'll owl you the details of the ceremony, mum, dad." 

It was her mother than broke free of the shock and despair long enough to walk them to the door. Hermione's breath caught as her mother grabbed hold of Snape's hand.

"Take care of her. Please. Whether you enjoy her presence or not. I may not be a witch, but I will find some way to hurt you if you cause her any pain that is not completely unavoidable."

He held her eyes, brown to black, darkness to light; and nodded. Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Your father will calm down," her mother murmured, turning now to her. "Owl us when you make the plans."

There had to be other questions she wanted to ask, but she didn't - something Hermione promised to thank her for later.

"Love you, mum," she whispered.

"Love you, too, sweetie."

And before her mother could even shut the door Snape had a hand on her shoulder, the world fading out to a pinprick as they apparated away.

Now the fun began, she told herself sarcastically as the gates of Hogwarts appeared again. She wouldn't need Snape to hurt her any more - her fellow classmates would be up to the task.

Of that she was quite sure.

x x x End Part x x x


	7. Chapter 7

x x x Chapter Seven x x x   
The halls were quiet as she treaded silently towards Gryffindor Tower. Not once did she see a single student, prefect or otherwise, out wandering. Surprising, though not that much so. It was rather late for students to be out, after all. 

She felt like a woman in an old movie, she supposed, walking the lines towards her inevitable execution. Not that her housemates were going to kill her. Or even touch her in any way, she was sure. But their dirty looks and harsh glares would be enough. And she didn't have enough hope left in her entire body to wish for anything else.

The Headmaster had offered to come with her, to stand there in the very common room of the Gryffindor dorms as she defended herself and her supposed choice to the very same housemates that she'd known for years in most cases, less for the younger students. But she'd turned him down. What was the point? He could stand there all night if necessary, but he couldn't be there for her tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after. She had months of school left and during that time he couldn't be with her every step of the way. 

And, besides that, he couldn't make them stop thinking what they were undoubtedly already thinking. Standing next to her only prolonged the inevitable. No one would speak their mind in front of him, they'd just bite their tongues, smile and pretend all was okay when it wasn't.

It was what would happen when he left that she wanted to get to, thus the reason she had turned down his offer to begin with. Best to just skip the forced cheeriness, those lying offers of comraderie, and get right to the heart of the matter. 

Hermione stopped outside of the door to the common room, ignoring the questioning looks the Fat Lady was giving her. She knew what was going on, of course. All the portraits did. They were the very lifeblood of the rumor mill at Hogwarts, after all, if for no other reason than their propensity to overhear what others didn't wish spoken of.

"You can't stand there all night," the kindly portrait murmured sympathetically.

"I very well could," Hermione rolled her eyes, fighting off the shiver that was running up and down her spine. This couldn't be any worse than the other things she'd faced through the years, could it? She'd all but gone toe to toe with the Dark Lord himself, why was the thought of facing her peers so much the harder?

Because they could hurt her in ways that no one else could, she told herself silently. They could turn their backs on her and make her life that much more the miserable for the remainder of her time as a student at the school.

With a trembling that was only a fraction of what she felt, the bushy haired seventh year looked up into the Fat Lady's face, and said the password.

x x x 

Harry looked up as the door to the common room opened, glancing towards Ron, then at the others that were waiting, split down the middle, on either side of the room. Supporters of Hermione's choice on one side - those that thought she had gone 'round the bend on the other. It was surprising the way things had split, almost evenly, right down the middle of their house.

Surprising. . .and sad. Gryffindors were supposed to stick together. But there was nothing that either he or Ron had been able to say to make those against Hermione's choice see anything other than the suppositions that immediately began to jump into their minds.

"She'll be alright, Harry," Ginny whispered, though her thin hand clutched his sleeve as if she were afraid to let go. Afraid to get washed away in the midst of this house sundering event that no one really had any control over. He looked down at her, nodding.

"Sure it will, Gin," he forced a smile to his lips, though it was thin and not at all cheery, he knew.

He just hadn't figured out yet -how- it was going to be okay. And, looking around the room - at faces both angry and supportive - he felt that conviction wavering just a little.

x x x 

The first thing she saw when the portrait door swung open was the line of emptiness down the middle of the common room. It wouldn't have been so easy to notice, she told herself with a mental gulp of apprehension, had there not been two groups of students - one on either side of that empty space.

So this was how it was to be, she told herself silently, holding her head as high as she could under the glares and stares, searching for a familiar face amidst the crowd. There, Harry, Ron and Ginny; to her left. The House was divided from this. It made her feel sick to her stomach. She walked into the room, letting the portrait swing shut behind her.

The second it clicked into place, the whispers started, the comments began, and all hell broke loose as angry accusations began to be thrown.

"It's going to be okay," Ginny assured her, rushing over and hugging her for all she was worth. Hermione felt her body begin to shake with tears she hadn't been able to shed for hours. Yet still they wouldn't come, couldn't break free from her eyes. She didn't know what she was waiting for. This, if any, was the time to cry.

But she didn't.

And the comforting words of her friends, the soothing words of her supporters, began to slowly drown out the discontent on the other side of the room, until she couldn't hear it for all their murmured assurances. Until she felt like maybe the tears weren't necessary at all.

"We don't know why you chose him over Malfoy," Neville sighed as he took his turn hugging her. "We can make guesses, and start rumors of our own. But there must be a real reason. We trust you."

She nodded, whispering her thanks.

"I don't believe the Ravenclaws for one minute," Lavender snorted. "I've seen you study. If sleeping with Snape was the easy way to passing marks. . .why would you spend all your time in the library?" She paused, grimacing. "And that was an unpleasant image." 

Hermione giggled, leaning her head on Harry's shoulder. The others were still waiting, on the other side of the room. Some surprising faces. Parvati, for one. The Creeveys for another. She'd thought for sure that they would stand by her. But that wasn't to be the case. There were alot of first years on that side, and a good portion of the second years; students that hadn't had a change to get to know her well enough to dispel the rumors, the snide remarks, she told herself with resignation.

And now they never would.

". . .we should have known. . .good grades. . .Snape's little. . ." 

Hermione's head shot up, in the direction of the voice that had spoken purposefully loud so as to make itself heard above the din of her supporters. She stiffened, meeting Parvati's eyes. Of all the students on that side of the room, that girl alone should have known, just as Lavender did, what pains she went through to make sure her grades stayed perfect. They were roommates, for Merlin's sake!

"Why else would she choose him over Draco Malfoy - think about it," Parvati continued, unblinkingly, as she met Hermione's eyes from across the room.

"Because Draco is an evil little ferret," Ron protested. Hermione felt the corner of her mouth curl up in a half-smile. Even now, when the odds were stacked against her, her true friends were there to make sure her honor didn't get tainted.

Well, more tainted, she told herself ruefully. Perhaps it was just the sheer exhausting quality of the day that was making this seem all too amusing now. Hysteria, that was it. She was hysterical from the stress, the overwhelming grief. That was the only excuse she had --

For laughing.

She felt it bubble up inside of her, escaping through her mouth and nose in a very unladylike snort. Her hand flew to her mouth, trying to keep the nervous giggles inside, but they just wouldn't stay put, flying out around her hand, between her fingers. She was laughing so hard that tears were coming to her eyes, and her sides were rapidly starting to hurt. Everyone was staring at her like she'd lost her mind.

And maybe she had.

But tonight she didn't want to have her mind. She didn't want to think about what the morning would bring. This was just a taste of things, after all. The Slytherins would be openly worse, the Ravenclaws would be snide and awful. The Hufflepuffs. . .well they'd just try to destroy her with kindness, she supposed. A big old gut-squishing hug of support that would smother her just as sure as any of the hateful, vindictive things that came from others. 

". . .he's so handsome. . ."

"Not like that greasy git . . ."

". . .would've treated her like a queen. . ."

That brought another snort of laughter from Hermione - and surprisingly everyone on her side of the room joined in, as well.

"Malfoy would've treated her like a queen?" Neville frowned. "They really don't get it, do they? We all know what his dad's like and yet they all assume he's -better-."

"Or they just can't understand why I chose Snape," Hermione shook her head, the giggles still floating through her brain despite the severity of the accusations coming from the other side of the room.

"And there were reasons, I'm sure," Lavender nodded knowingly. "We'll all figure it out one day, right?"

Hermione nodded, knowing the answer to this question, even if she doubted everything else in her life at that moment. One day the wizarding world would know the danger that Snape had indulged in. They'd understand why he was the way he was. When all this was said and done they'd -know- why she hadn't chosen Draco. And maybe the ones that were being mean now would understand. But it wouldn't matter at that point - because they'd know the truth, whether or not they chose to see it.

She gave Lavender a small smile. "I guarantee it."

x x x End Part x x x


	8. Chapter 8

x x x Contractual Obligations x x x 

Hermione felt cold and stiff the next morning when she woke, as if death had come to personally claim her as she slumbered. The stones of the floor were frigid beneath her feet, and she slipped them quickly into her slippers, glancing around the room tiredly. Ginny was still asleep, not surprising since they'd been up half the night talking through everything that had happened. She wished that they had the luxury of staying in bed for just another hour or two, but it was already getting late. Any more rest and they'd miss breakfast completely and run the risk of being late for their first classes of the day.

"Gin, get up," she called out quietly, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Hm?" the barely coherent mumble came from within the mound of blankets and pillows.

"Time to get up or we'll miss breakfast," Hermione prompted her again, this time crossing the room to give the younger witch a little shake. 

Ginny sighed, eyes cracking open slowly. "Right, getting up."

"Good," the brunette smirked, rolling her eyes. She laid out a change of clothes and gathered her bathing materials, the idea of a nice warm shower sounding more than heavenly at that moment. The ache in her neck, most likely due to sleeping at a bad angle, was sending little jabs of pain coursing through her neck and shoulders every time she tried to turn her head.

And the last thing she wanted today was another reason to be miserable. She had more than enough reasons as it was, after all. Today brought her one step closer to a marriage she didn't want.

Not to mention facing the reactions of the rest of the school.

She shivered and shut her eyes. No more crying. Not a single tear. This was what was to be, and she had to make the most of it. Things could have been worse, after all. She could have been forced into the marriage with Malfoy!

The shared bathroom was blessedly empty when arrived, letting her know in no uncertain terms that they were even more late getting up than she'd thought. She started the shower, turning the water as hot as she could bear. It pelted against her neck, the tiny droplets massaging as their warmth hit her time and again. It would be so easy to stand there all day, she knew. To just ignore the outside world and everything waiting for her.

But she couldn't.

Another minute passed before she reached back, turning the knob to cut the flow of water. She stood there, dripping; feeling a little more refreshed than she had moments before. It would be okay, she told herself. Wasn't half of her house still on her side, even if the other half seemed to detest everything she stood for? Maybe it would be a little better with the other houses. Except for Slytherin, of course. There was no hope where they were concerned. Her best bet lay in just avoiding them at all costs, if at all possible.

She toweled off and slipped into her day clothes, buttoning her robe over the crisp white shirt and pleated grey skirt. It was the same thing she'd worn every school day for years now, and yet today it just didn't seem to fit. She sighed. It was her that didn't fit now, of course. Not the clothes. Not the school. She could act as if it was all foreign-seeming all she wanted, but that wouldn't change the fact that nothing had changed but –her-.

Ginny was already dressed, though looking still somewhat rumpled, when she came back into the dorm room.

"Ready?"

The red head snorted and rolled her eyes. "Isn't that what I should be asking –you-?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm as ready as I can be, I guess."

And, as much as it was the truth, the sentiment still meant very little. How ready could anyone possibly be for this?

Ginny met her eyes, as if trying to see into her soul to find the truth, and Hermione found herself hoping that her friend would just take her word for it, even if she looked terrified out of her mind. There was nothing either of them could do.

"Alright, then." The sixth year witch finally nodded. "Let's go, then."

She followed behind the other girl, down the stairs to the common room. How different it all looked this morning, without the invisible line of dissension running through it. A brief smile lit her face at the sight of Harry and Ron, sitting patiently waiting for them. Well, Harry was waiting patiently, she amended silently; Ron looked as if he might start eating the upholstery on the chairs if he didn't get to the Great Hall soon.

"Morning," she offered with the best attempt at cheer she could manage.

"Thank Merlin," Ron sighed dramatically, stumbling to his feet. "Thought you two were never coming down."

Hermione felt herself break into a genuine grin at the over-dramatization on Ron's part. They weren't that late, not really. Still plenty of time for breakfast, even for someone with a stomach as cavernous as his.

"You didn't have to wait," Ginny pointed out as they exited the tower, the portrait door swinging shut behind them.

"Yes we did," Harry shook his head, voice soft. "We're not letting you walk in alone."

Hermione caught Harry's eye, the meaning of his words very clear. They wouldn't let her face the school alone. If it was going to be her versus everyone else they would be right there next to her. One for all and all for one, as the saying went. She had thought that it was the unofficial Gryffindor motto, but that had turned out horribly wrong. The house was divided and it was all her fault. Perhaps time would heal the rift.

Or maybe not, she forced herself to admit. Maybe this was one of those things that friends never recovered from. They had all done some great things together throughout the years, but maybe that wasn't enough. It certainly wouldn't be enough to sway the younger students back to her side. She was just a traitor to them, marrying a Slytherin –Professor- instead of the self-appointed god of Slytherin house himself, Draco Malfoy.

"And speak of the devil," she muttered to herself as they turned a corner, coming face to face with said blonde wizard himself.

"What was that?" Ron frowned, hand already creeping towards his robe pocket.

"Nothing," she shook her head, drawing herself up tall. "Get out of our way, Malfoy."

She felt a shiver run up her spine as he raised one perfect eyebrow at her. "Tell me, Granger – do you really think he's going to treat you any better? Have you deluded yourself into thinking he could ever possibly be anything but cruel to a pathetic little mudblood like yourself?"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut so hard she felt her jaw groan in protest.

"Guess she'd rather have a real snake than a ferret," Ron sneered. He took a step forward, effectively shielding her from having to even look at Malfoy any further. It was comical, Ron defending her choice of Snape over Malfoy. At any other time she was sure she would have been laughing, and from the look on Ginny's face, she was thinking the same thing.

"I don't know why my father wanted –her- in the first place," Malfoy smirked, the tone of his voice taunting in a manner that Hermione knew would get Ron to draw his wand. It would be all downhill from there, so to speak. "Smart, yes. Powerful – hardly. Pretty? Not even remotely."

Hermione felt like she'd been slapped, but Ron was once again reaching towards his pocket, and things were about to go from bad to worse. Or something more than worse, from the look on Harry's face. Even Ginny looked like she was about to take a stab at a hex or two. She pushed against Ron until she was once again with sight of Malfoy.

"It should tell you something that I'd rather bed my old, greasy Professor than –you-, Malfoy. And that's all I really have to say." She grabbed hold of Ron's arm, tugging on Ginny's sleeve as she led them back around the corner. There were other ways to get to the Great Hall.

Ways that wouldn't end in dueling.

Well, she hoped, she told herself, as she spotted a group of Ravenclaw girls up ahead. The looks they were throwing her way were anything but friendly.

Cursing her way past Malfoy was looking better and better by the second.

She lifted her chin, trying to look as aloof as possible as she walked past the girls, Harry and the others hurrying to catch up with her quickened strides. But walking fast wasn't enough to get her out of earshot before she heard them. The rumors that she had been warned would happen had already started spreading throughout the school, it seemed. She had slept her way to good grades, apparently not just with Snape, either, to hear tell of it.

A crimson blush spread over her cheeks as she finally got past them, into an empty section of the hallway. She leaned back against the wall, biting her lip to keep from sobbing.

It'll be okay, everyone had told her.

But how would this ever be okay?

"C'mon, 'Mione," Ginny whispered, tugging on her arm. The brunette witch opened her eyes, giving Ginny a frightened look.

"I don't think I can do this."

"You can't quit eating," Ron pointed out with good-natured obliviousness, eliciting a small snort of surprised laughter from Hermione.

"He's right," Harry picked up the thread. "Or sleeping. Or bathing."

"Oh please don't give up bathing," Ginny pleaded dramatically. "I shudder to think what our room would smell like after a week of it."

Hermione giggled. "You guys are silly. Of course I'm not going to give up anything. I just have to face it –right? It can't be that bad."

She didn't miss the look her friends shared, but chose to ignore it. So, alright – it could be that bad. But there was nothing to be done about it. Standing here, near tears, wasn't going to do anything for her.

Pushing off the wall, Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Let's go to breakfast."

"You sure?" the younger witch questioned, following along with her nevertheless.

"No," Hermione laughed without humor. "But it has to be done anyway. Like you said – I can't just stop eating."

x x x End Part x x x


	9. Chapter 9

x x x Part Nine x x x 

"You're going to have to talk about it sometime."

Hermione winced, turning her head from Ginny's altogether accurate assessment of the situation at hand. She looked back down at the note in her hand and shut her eyes. She knew what it said, those harsh lines scrawled into the parchment with black ink. Snape wanted to speak with her. Tonight after dinner, in his office.

They needed to talk about the wedding.

She shuddered, her entire body jumping as an arm was laid across her shoulders.

"Sorry," she whispered to Ginny, opening her eyes to give the girl a brief smile. "Just a little –"

"Stressed?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "Stressed is a good word. There are others, though. Scared. Nervous. Depressed. –"

"'Mione –"

"No," the older witch shook her head, cutting off whatever soft words of comfort the other girl may have been about to offer. "There's really nothing you can say to make me feel better right now, Gin. I have to meet him tonight to plan what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. My wedding. I was going to wear white robes and have those pretty roses that change from white to light blue every couple minutes. It was going to be beautiful. Perfect. And now –"

She didn't have to say the words. Now that was all at an end. This wedding would be nothing she had dreamed of – from what she wore to the man at the end of the aisle. If there was an aisle at all. They didn't need an actual wedding-wedding, after all. Just a ceremony that her mom and dad could come to, if they wanted. And Harry, Ron and Ginny. Maybe some of the others from her house that hadn't completely turned their backs on her. But that was it. It wasn't a day to be happy about, to celebrate and remember for all of time.

Just something to hurry up and be done with, before they broke even that first rule of the contract. And after that –

Well, then she had other aspects of the contract to deal with.

That brought a lurch to her stomach and she bit back a gag. Why did her mind always come back to that part of things? It was her worst nightmare, come true. Being forced to consummate a marriage to someone that she couldn't stand to be around for more than a few minutes at a time. Someone that was only passably handsome.

Someone that she had no emotional attachment to at all other than a vague sense of respect for his intelligence, overlaid by a stronger feeling of disgust at the way he treated not only her, but her friends, too.

Someone other than her most hated potions Professor. 

Why had her life gotten so complicated? Wasn't it bad enough, as far as fate went, to be friends with the Boy Who Lived? Wasn't that enough adventure and heartache for a lifetime?

Apparently not.

"So – are you going to go?"

Hermione found herself looking up from the table to Ginny's open, warm face. She sighed, nodding.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

x x x 

He'd been dreading this moment since sending her the note that morning during breakfast. A wedding. Planning a wedding, for that matter. Nothing that he wanted to talk about. Or even think about, for that matter.

Severus shuddered, reaching for the mug on his desk. Coffee with just a touch of Firewhiskey. Something to set his nerves down a notch, before she arrived for this most dreaded of all meetings.

She'd want flowers, of course. And one of those elaborate sets of gowns that those little shops in Hogsmead sold. White and altogether a waste of galleons, of course.

He hissed, shutting his thoughts down then and there before they could take an even more negative slant than they already had. Of course she would want those things. What witch of her age wouldn't? A wedding was supposed to be a dream come true, or some rubbish to that effect. He'd never felt the desire to get married, still didn't. And those dreams hardly settled on wizards. The need to spend an outrageous sum of galleons for one day out of your life? Hardly something he wanted to be afflicted with.

But she would want it.

He looked up at the knock on his office door, eyes narrowing. She was early, something that he should have assumed. Not because she was that eager to be here with him, but because she wanted this over with as soon as was possible, as well.

"Come."

The door opened slowly, tentatively. His teeth ground together in irritation as she finally appeared, stepping inside and shutting the door just as slowly behind her.

"Sit."

She nodded, taking the seat across from his desk. What had happened to that brave little Gryffindor of only a few days ago? The one that had held her head high even though her world was crumbling around her? She looked just as timid as ever, sitting there in her school robes, hands clasped on her lap; as if she expected to be lectured over her class work or some other school related topic. He sighed, wishing that he'd forgone the coffee and opted for just pure Firewhiskey. To live out his life with a woman that looked as if she'd allowed herself to be defeated --

Well, he could always hope that the Dark Lord finally figured things out and had him killed, couldn't he?

"We need to discuss the ceremony."

She nodded stiffly, her eyes cast down to his desktop.

"Small. Your family. My father," he swallowed around the distaste in his mouth. "And. . .close friends."

She lifted her head to look at him, raising her eyebrows in apparent surprise. Had she not even expected him to make that much of a concession? To allow guests at the ceremony? He'd only have his father, of course; and some of the staff. He had no friends to speak of outside of Lucius Malfoy, and he couldn't possibly invite him after their little showdown at the Ministry.

"Thank you," she murmured, nodding. "That should be sufficient. Are we done?"

Just like that? No demands on the actual ceremony? No opinions on how it should be done?

"You have no input in this?"

He didn't mean for the words to come out as coldly as they did. She was just as much a victim in all of this as he was, after all. But they tumbled from his lips, turning to ice in the air between them, his darker emotions taking over. She was being far too reasonable, too quiet.

"What good would my 'input' do, sir?" she muttered darkly, meeting his eyes. He saw that familiar spark in their brown depths, and felt reassured that she wasn't completely broken. Spending the next seventy years with a cowed wife was hardly how he imagined living out his days. "I hardly had a say in this matter from the beginning. Why should it start now?"

Spark was good, he decide in an instant. But blatant hostility was something else entirely. And not something that he would term 'good'.

"Miss Granger –"

A harsh snort escaped her lips. Ah, yes. She wouldn't be 'Miss Granger' much longer, would she? She'd be taking on his name. A name that wasn't exactly on the best lists of wizarding society. Full of darkness and mystery, his family had always been social outcasts to some extent.

And now she would be, too.

"You're giving up?" he couldn't contain his derision. "Poor little Gryffindor. She put up a big act, but couldn't carry through to the end?"

He watched as she sucked in a deep breath, her eyes widening. "I haven't given up. I just didn't feel like fighting with you tonight. This is hard enough without wondering what I'm going to say to get you riled up."

A chilly silence descended on the small office. Him glaring at her, her trying her best to put up that brave front she'd adopted since the day their entire lives had been turned upside down, dreams and aspirations thrown out the proverbial window.

He knew the reason she said what she said, acted the way she acted. Wasn't it his fault, after all? Didn't he prefer it that way with all of his students – if not everyone that dared to try to enter his life. Being feared was easier than being cared for.

Not that he wanted her to. . .care. . .for him. The very thought alone was enough to make him shudder with revulsion. She was too pure, too filled with. . .goodness. Not a suitable match at all.

She was afraid of him. That was what it bubbled down to. The way she looked at him, tried her best to stand up to him. It was all out of fear.

Severus let a smirk dance across his features however briefly.

But fear was just one step away from being that cowed little wench that he didn't want, he reminded himself silently. His own mother had been like that, and it had torn him apart to see it. Secluded in her rooms all day and night, he'd rarely seen her. She had been afraid of his father, afraid of the world outside their home and the role the Snape family played in it. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk.

"We're through?"

She was up before he could say anything, her cool eyes staring down at him. 

And then she left, leaving him to wonder just how in the hell they were going to survive this and retain what little sanity they both had left.


	10. Chapter 10

x x x Contractual Obligations: Part Ten x x x 

His father was due at any moment, and the thought alone was enough to send shivers of pure, cold dread running up and down Severus' spine. Oh, if his students could only feel his emotions now, he mused with bitter irony. To know that their most hated Professor now only could fear something, but that it was nothing more than his father. The first would shock them, the second would no doubt send them into gales of laughter.

Of course, it wasn't true fear. Not the kind that sent those sniveling would-be witches and wizards running to hide under their blankets at night. No, this was a healthy dislike. A natural sense of wariness where the old man was concerned. Those were more apt definitions of what he was feeling. Where his father came, no good could follow.

As this entire marriage contract proved without deniability. There had been no 'good intent' in his father's heart when he sent in the contract. Not one single shred of cheer or joy. And he even had begun to wonder if this was done purely out of a desire to see the Snape family name continue on, or if it was some plot of his father's to further make his life a living hell.

His eyes wandered without purpose over the front of the grounds, lingering near the front gate. Still no sign of the old troublemaker.

Severus shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the eyes he knew were watching him from somewhere in the school via all those blasted windows. Perhaps if his ventures out of doors weren't so far and few between he wouldn't be under such intense, curious scrutiny from the students.

Or maybe it was simply because they'd heard from his gossipy bride-to-be that his father would be here today. The students would no doubt get great enjoyment from seeing what kind of creature had raised him. And he knew for a fact that Granger was curious on a morbid level, like someone who wanted to see their own doom in living color, knowing that they could do nothing to change it.

And his father was her doom, there was no mistake to it. Unless Merlin himself were looking out for them and incited a sudden, painful death in the old man, there was no way they could get around this marriage. She would be stuck for all of time as his. . .wife.

Even in his mind the word was distasteful. Married. To a student. Someone that was young enough to be his own daughter. And within a short time they would be –

The gate opened, and he knew even from this distance that it was his father. Dressed from head to toe in black, accented only with touches of silver. He was much like Lucius Malfoy in that respect, a creature of the shadows. Of darkness.

It was a wonder he had turned out so comparatively. . .normal, despite everything his students may believe, Severus snorted mentally without mirth. He made no step to meet his father, unwilling to concede even that little bit with so many concessions already forced upon him.

"Severus."

"Father."

They stood looking at each other, neither moving or speaking. Something that Severus found himself somewhat grateful for. He wasn't in the mood to converse with the old man, who looked so much older in the last rays of the setting sun.

But still not old enough to just die and get it over with before they were forced to go through with this sham of a wedding.

In the back of his mind he knew that, without this contract, Granger would have been forced into a much worse situation.

Funny how he couldn't find it within himself to care, with his father's black eyes trying their hardest to pierce right into his very soul.

"I'll show you to your room."

His father raised one long, black eyebrow. "I'd much rather meet the lovely witch I chose for you, Severus."

The way he said 'lovely' left no doubt in Severus' mind exactly what his father thought of Hermione Granger. A piece of flesh, and a sub-grade one at that. She was powerful and intelligent, but she wasn't a pureblood. She was. . .a last resort.

"She has class tomorrow and is no doubt in her rooms studying," he lied through his teeth, praying that they would not run into her during their brief voyage through the school's halls, in their path to the guest rooms.

His father's eyes narrowed to thin black slits, and Hogwarts most feared Professor found himself in the odd position of feeling like he was about to be thoroughly talked down to.

And he wasn't far from wrong.

"You will do as I say. Do not for one second forget that I can make your life an even more dismal hell than it already is, Severus. I want to meet this Granger girl and I will meet her –tonight-!"

Severus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something that would jeopardize his somewhat fragile standing with his father, reminding himself one last time that the old man literally held the power of whether or not he continued to exist in the wizarding world in frail, spindly hands.  
"Fine. I will show you to your room and then fetch Miss Granger."

He turned, not wanting to see the inevitable smirk of satisfaction that flitted across his father's features.

x x x 

Hermione found herself focusing on the lines in the floor as she followed behind Snape towards the guest room Dumbledore had assigned to his father. She had not wanted to meet with him tonight. Nor tomorrow, though she supposed that not doing so wasn't something of a choice since it would be their wedding night.

But not tonight. Definitely not tonight.

And, yet, here she was, being whisked away from her books to meet with the crazy, evil, disgusting old man that had forced her into this.

Better this than Draco Malfoy, she told herself with a sharp sigh. It drew a look from Snape and she pressed her lips together tightly, unwilling to answer the silent question he asked with a raise f his eyebrows.

"Be polite."

"Only if he is," she snapped.

"Miss Granger –"

"Do not think you can tell me what to say or how to say it," her voice was cold as they stopped outside of the door to his father's room.

"Fine," he smirked with a roll of his eyes. "Don't say I did not warn you."

x x x 

She found herself stumbling back to her room an hour later, tears in her eyes. How could that man –

A part of her wanted to laugh at the bitter irony. She supposed this was proof positive that children were a product of their parents, part and parcel. Snape was certainly very much like his father in mannerism and attitude, whether or not either of them wanted to admit it. They dressed similarly and both had the manners of an older time, as was popular amongst the pureblood families she had been fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to spend time with.

But the similarities, while numerous, were overshadowed by something that she could only describe as 'soul'. Snape had one, his father most certainly did not. How it was possible to hate someone more than she had ever hated Snape, she wasn't sure. But tonight had done it. She hated Snape Sr. with a passion that she hadn't known she possessed. It had been all she could do to bite her tongue and not deliver to him the firm tongue lashing she thought so dearly that he needed. It wasn't good manners that held her back. Or even a sense of respect, because she had none for him before the rendezvous began and certainly none now that it was over and done with.

No, she had held her tongue because of the way Snape had looked before they walked in the room, when he warned her to stay polite. Because of the way he had held himself in check no matter what his father had said to or about him during the course of their get together.

Almost as if he was –

No, she told herself with a shake of her head. There was no way that Snape was afraid of his father. Cautious was the right word, she told herself. He was cautious.

And if he was cautious, the least she could do was hold her tongue and bide her time until he was no longer in a position to lord over them.

x x x 

The evening of the wedding came sooner than Hermione would have liked, and was on a night so beautiful that she hated to spoil it with such grief. She looked up into the clear sky, wishing that the stars weren't sparkling like so many jewels. That something about the setting for all of this would be less than ideal so that she had one more reason to be miserable.

"Hey you."

Hermione turned, giving Ginny the best smile she could manage given the turmoil of her heart. She unconsciously ran her hands down her sides, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in the plain white robes she had chosen for the ceremony. The only embellishment was a row of faux-pearls on either side of the front closure. It was simple, yet elegant. Not the wedding robes she'd always dreamed of, but not her plain old school robes, either.

"Hey," Hermione offered, her brow furrowing at the flowers Ginny held in her hand. "For me?"

The red head nodded, offering the bouquet of white roses, tied together with a simple white ribbon. They were beautiful, even though a reminder of something that she would have rather forgotten. Her wedding. In – she turned to look at the clock on her nightstand – less than twenty minutes.

White roses, for her funeral, she thought morosely.

"Your mum just arrived, too. She's with Dumbledore right now."

Hermione couldn't help the feeling of sadness that coursed through her. Ginny hadn't said her mum and dad. Just her mum. Her dad hadn't come. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. She had known the night she left their house that she was making a choice. It was a choice that, while she'd hoped to never have to make, had always known somewhere in her mind she would. To stay within the wizarding world, no matter what, or to abandon it completely for the Muggle world.

And she'd made her choice.

"We should go down there."

She looked into Ginny's worried eyes and nodded slowly. "I know."

But she didn't move and Ginny didn't make her. They stood there, just looking at one another, and then looking around the room. It hit her like a punch in the stomach that she wouldn't be sleeping in this room again. Not tonight, not tomorrow night. She would be a married woman, living with her. . .husband. And they would, after the ceremony tonight –

She moved quickly towards the door, thoughts of running going through her mind. Her mother would take her home, they could figure something out. There had to be classes she could take to catch up in a regular school. And she could live without magic for the rest of her life. Without the excitement of brewing a potion or transfiguring something into a whole new . . .

No, she stopped, one hand on the door. She couldn't run. She couldn't give this up.

"Ready?"

Ginny's voice floated to her ears from behind her, and Hermione nodded. She wasn't ready, but she had to be.

The moment she set foot outside of that door nothing would ever be the same again. She'd go down to the section of the ground that had been set aside for the wedding, she'd walk down the aisle as friends. . .schoolmates. . .Professors and her mother looked on, each feeling the same thing she was.

And she'd marry him.

Because, in the end, she loved this world too much to just give it up.

x x x End Part x x x


	11. Chapter 11a

x x x Part Eleven x x x

She saw people on either side of the aisle, crying. Not out of joy, but because they knew what she was going through. They could feel her pain.

And even with the knowledge that she wasn't alone in how she felt, Hermione couldn't bring herself to feel any better as she walked slowly down the petal strewn corridor that was serving as the aisle. Her feet crunched the delicate pink rose petals. One step after another, she told herself. One step after another. Just get to the front and then –

Her stomach lurched desperately. Once she got to the front the ceremony would begin. And when the ceremony was over with. . .

She couldn't think of that right now. Not if she wanted to have any chance of going through with this. Of not running away right at this very moment, tearing through the chairs, heading for the hills. Anywhere but here. That's what would happen if she thought about the 'after'.

There could be no 'after' in her mind, even if the logical part of her knew, deep down, that there was to be an 'after' one way or another.

With determination borne of self-preservation, she continued down the aisle, unable to meet the eyes of her friends and family as she passed. They pitied her. For that matter, she pitied herself.

She could feel the hard, cold gaze of Snape's father on her back as she passed the front row of chairs, and longed to turn and lash out at him, to exact some form of vengeance from him, no matter how small, before she went through with this heinous deed.

Her gaze snapped to Snape himself as she stopped in front of Dumbledore. He was in black dress robes, of course. What else could she honestly expect of him? Besides, she told herself, Muggle men wore black suits or tuxedos to weddings. Why should she have expected anything more lighthearted or less dignified from a man that was the very model of dignity and decorum?

"Friends and family –" Dumbledore began, without preamble, as she turned her gaze from her husband to be to the wizard in question. It was almost as if he could read her mind, she decided. Why else would he be so quick to launch into the ceremony, if not for fear that she would run away?

She swallowed; letting his gentle words wash over her, for all that they inspired tremendous fear and despair in her very soul.

x x x

"Make him go away."

Severus found himself snorting, somewhat amused, at the faith his new. . .bride. . .placed in him.

"If I could make my father disappear, do you now think I would have done so long before now?"

She frowned, brown eyes blazing as they turned hatefully back to his father. Even Severus could admit that the old man was in fine form tonight. He'd already managed to insult her mother twice, despite the fact that the altogether too polite Muggle had done her very best to avoid being anywhere close to him. At any other time it would have been amusing to watch the dance they were partaking in. The way she would step away just as he neared, finding somewhere else that she 'had to be'. Someone that she needed to greet or chat with. And his father was playing the part of the evil old wizard very well.

In fact, despite the entire situation, it was still somewhat amusing; though he held no such reservations about how foul of a mood this was placing Her in. That was what she was now in his mind. Her. Hermione. Easy enough to remember, as if he could forget. She was. . .

His mind stumbled as the word wife came to the front, followed quickly by student. She was his wife and student. It was. . .disgusting, really. To think that they had entered into this union –

"I'm going to hex him."

"You will not."

"Why?" she arched an eyebrow, one hand already inside what he assumed was an inside pocket of her robe. "Going to give me detention for it? Believe me when I say it will be far more than just 'worth it'."

"Hexing him will not change anything."

He fought the urge not to wilt under the angry, smoldering glare she threw at him.

"No, but it might make me feel better." She growled, but her hand withdrew from her pocket, nonetheless, wand free.

Severus rolled his eyes, but the minute amount of amusement remained. Perhaps one day, when he was much older, perhaps senile and forgetting how much he disliked Her, he would relate tales of how he had nearly hexed his father for one thing or another while growing up with the slimy git.

"He should be leaving soon enough, at any rate," he murmured to her, crossing his arms over his chest as he spotted the man in question walking towards them at that very moment. "Be nice."

"You ask too much," she hissed, and he worried that she could have snapped under it all finally. But the bored look he'd come to associate with her just barely keeping her emotions in check was pasted on her face by the time his father had reached where they stood.

"I would like to say it was a lovely ceremony, Severus," Snape Sr.'s silky voice intruded on the quiet corner of the reception like nails against a blackboard. "However we both know it was not. You did the bare minimum to meet my requirements. Nothing more nothing less. Just like you, Severus, always skating by. Never excelling in anything. No initiative, that's your problem."

Severus' eyes widened, and he could almost hear the thoughts in Her head. If they had wanted the ceremony in the first place, perhaps they would have made it 'special'. Of course, he could readily admit that, being who he was, it was doubtful he would have gone all out on a wedding ceremony whether he wanted it or not.

But that had nothing to do with whether or not he excelled at anything in life, which he most certainly had, whether or not it was anything his father cared about. One foot in the dark, one foot in the grey, his father was the one to never do anything with his life. Too afraid to support the Dark Lord like he wanted in his heart, he'd wanted that for his son.

It was the only thing he'd ever done 'right'.

"Be that as it may," the old man sneered. "I will be taking my leave now so that the two of you may. . . consummate your relationship."

x x x

Hermione gagged.

He'd said it!

She turned her face away, willing herself not to throw up. Making it all the way through the ceremony was for nothing, after all, and this reminder of it was like a slap to her face.

She still had her wedding night to deal with.

"Oh, Merlin," she sighed, shutting her eyes. She could hear Snape's father speaking, but chose not to actively listen or respond in any way. Let him think she didn't care for him, it was nothing more than the truth. He was a vile, evil creature that deserved nothing more than to meet with the wrong end of an Avada Kedavra, and she wished for nothing more than to have the willpower to be the one to administer it.

Preferably after three or four rounds of Cruciatus.

Perhaps more.

Definitely more, she seethed, as finally her new father-in-law took his leave of them both. Her mother was already gone. Her friends had returned to their dorm rooms. Other than a few miscellaneous professors, the reception was empty.

She looked, fearfully, towards Snape, stomach lurching yet again.

This wouldn't be that bad, she told herself, meeting his eyes. Sure, he wasn't someone she loved, liked or even remotely cared for in any way at all, even as one human to another. But. . .

"Let's get this over with," she whispered.

"We are not required to do . . .that. . .tonight," Snape hissed, rolling his eyes up to the sky above.

"I just want to get it done before I lose my nerve, -sir-."

"Miss Granger –"

"It's Snape now, in case you haven't forgotten." Her tone was frosty, and she knew it, as the words left her mouth for the first time. Mrs. Hermione Snape, that was what she was. The ceremony had been performed and witnessed. He was her husband just as she was now his wife.

He met her eyes and nodded, ever so slightly, before turning off into the darkness, back towards the school.

This was it, she told herself. The end of her supposed innocent, in the terms of the Muggle world. As if she'd been innocent since the moment she became entangled in fighting this bloody war with Harry and Ron. But this the final blow to all of that, she knew. The last vestige of her that was still pure and childlike, gone.

She shuddered, following him through the darkness.

"Just lie back and think of Transfiguration," she murmured to herself, tasting the bitter words as they rolled off her tongue, swallowed into the night.

It would all be over soon enough.

x x x

Hermione pulled the sheet up around her torso, leaving her legs bare as Snape advanced towards the bed. He still had his robe on, covering all bits of his body that she would have rather not seen. She shut her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek.

Pincushion to porcupine, cotton ball to rabbit, she recited silently to herself, wishing that this moment could just be over and done with already. 

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," she choked out around the painful ball of fear in her throat.

"And you took that potion I set out? I am not yet ready to fulfill –that- portion of our contract."

"Yes, already!" she screamed, still not daring to open her eyes. "Just do it!"

She pulled her lip into her mouth, biting down hard enough to taste blood as she waited for not only the pain of her innocence being given up, but the mental anguish that was bound to be borne of this union.

x x x 

Severus looked down at her. Eyes clenched shut, hands clutching the sheet to her chest as if it were her only protection from him and this dirty act.

He wished he could not do this, for her and for himself. It would do wonders to ease the nausea in his own stomach to know that this would not be on the agenda tonight or any other night.

But that was not to be the case.

Just think of Potions, he told himself, angling his body and hoping that the potion he took only moments before, while changing into his robe, would allow him to even. . .perform. . .given the extreme disgust he felt in the act.

She is not a child, he told himself. Not in age or mind. Even if she is still a student, she is your wife.

And with that thought spurring him into just 'getting this over with', as She had said, he began, the room filling with her muffled cry of despair as he drove into her.

END CH 11-A


	12. Chapter 11b

I remember back when I originally wrote chapter 11-A, years ago. It was painful to write and I got a lot of backlash for it. Ha. I fully expect that kind of reaction again, just because it was NOT a pretty chapter. Therefore I'm keeping my original A/N's intact for this repost. I feel that they are still relevant.

A/N: For those of you feeling so sorry for Hermione, I would remind you to feel compassion to Snape, as well. For he is just as much a victim of this situation as she is.

A/N2: He didn't take an aphrodisiac in the last chapter. An aphrodisiac would imply that he had taken something to make himself –want- to do the deed, when in reality he only took something that –enabled- himself to do it. Big difference. Ability does not equal desire.

A/N3: Lastly, to the people who thought that Snape would have 'at least tried' to 'make things easier' for Hermione. Please remember that he wants this just as little as she does, and that Snape has never been known to talk simple for the fun of hearing himself talk.

x x x Part Eleven-B x x x

He felt the bed move nearly twenty minutes after he had evened his breathing out, feigning sleep. Her feet hit stones so much colder down in the dungeons than in the padded tower of the Gryffindors, and there was a rustle of cloth as she slid something on over her body, no doubt a robe of sorts, only to open the bathroom door, and then shut it again behind herself. He heard the lock snap into place, and thought nothing of it; knowing she would need her time to come to terms with what had happened just as he did. He didn't move, didn't open his eyes. There was not a single part of him that wanted to see her in whatever little light there may be in the room.

How would he be able to face her again after that?

The bile rose up so quickly in his throat that it was all he could do to swallow it back down, force his stomach to remain at ease, when really it only wanted to spew forth its contents. To empty himself of anything and everything he may have eaten or drank during that mocking excuse of a wedding reception.

She was his student.

And he had slept with her.

It went against everything that he had ever felt to even think of it in those terms. But there they were, laid bare and stark, just as the act itself had been. Wife or not, she was still his student, and he had done the unthinkable with her.

The bile rose again, and this time he found himself scrambling out of bed, for the waste bin next to his writing desk. The contents of his stomach lurched bitingly from his mouth, splattering into the wrought metal can with that sickening wet sloshing that only sickness of this nature tended to make. He gagged again and again, nothing left in his stomach, yet still the need was there. The disgust was so great it was a physical illness, pushing at him from the inside out.

He leaned back against the desk as the tremors of his body subsided, wrinkling his nose at the noxious smell of his sickness, sitting in the waste basket so close by. He'd need to clean that up. A simple spell, of course, had his wand been in his hand and not on his nightstand.

A sigh escaped Severus lips, eyes traveling unbidden to the bathroom door. It was still shut, light creeping out from beneath the crack where it met the floor; and from within came the sound of running water.

And sobs. So soft that anyone else wouldn't have heard, of that much he was sure. Or perhaps he was just looking for misery tonight – hers, his, anyone's – and was therefore so much more in tune with what said misery should sound like.

He should get up and check on her, that much was clear, despite the nausea that still accompanied the thought of what he had done to her only a short time earlier. Dumbledore would have his head on a platter if something happened to one of Hogwart's 'best and brightest' while under his watch, extraneous circumstances or not.

He'd get up, he told himself. Just another moment of peace, however, first.

x x x

Hermione imagined she could feel his eyes on her as she slid out of the bed, pulling her robe tight around her body as quickly as possible, lest he actually be looking her way, in fear that the dying embers of the fireplace would provide enough light for him to actually –see- her. She'd avoided that up to this point, thanks to Merlin for a few well placed sheets and blankets. He'd seen no part of her body that she had not been willing for him to see.

So, not much, in other words.

The bathroom was cold, much cooler than the bedroom, as she shut the door behind herself, swiping her wand over the lock to make sure that she wouldn't be interrupted. She stripped out of her robe, letting the burgundy material fall to the floor at her feet. She shivered, though the coolness of the room didn't quite reach her. The chill she felt was from the inside, and it was slowly seeping through her body, working its insidious icy fingers into her.

She turned on the water, as hot as she could stand, and crawled into the showed, sinking almost immediately to her knees under the hot water. It bit at the skin of her back, a touch too warm, leaving red marks on her skin. But it didn't hurt. Not nearly as much as she knew it should had. A part of her had died that night, gone with one foul stroke –

The brown haired witch gagged, but didn't vomit. They'd done it. Consummated. They'd . . .had sex. Shagged. Made –

No, there had been no love made this night, and she wasn't foolish enough to think that there ever would be love made between them. She was nothing more than a brood mare, after all. Just prized and powerful new blood to breathe life into a dying family name.

But not tonight. She'd protected herself with every contraceptive charm she could get her fingers on, and even a few pilfered from books in the Restricted Section under the guise of doing research for her final term papers. And, of course, there was the potion that she'd learned to make earlier that year. The irony of her Potions Master having taught her the very same potion she used before. . .coupling. . .with him that night was not lost on the witch, and she laughed despite the situation she found herself in.

The laughter faded just as quickly as it had come, however, fleeing her eyes and lips with the instantaneous quickness of a flash of lightning. She reached for the sole washrag in the stall.

She felt so dirty.

The rough cloth scraped against her skin, soft then hard, as she swiped back and forth under the burning water. Pink skin turned an angry red, yet still she kept scrubbing.

So dirty.

She sobbed, washing harder. There had to be a way to feel clean again. If she could just tolerate touching –down there- long enough to wash, perhaps she could feel clean again.

But even as the thought passed through her mind she knew that it would not be the case. That dull ache between her legs would only go away with good old fashioned time. And the pain in her mind and heart would never be truly cleansed.

Yet still she scrubbed.

She hissed in pain as the coarse terrycloth passed between her legs, against lips rubbed raw. It hurt the first time, she knew that. It was in all of the books she'd read – and she'd overheard some of the others girls talking about it.

But did it always hurt this badly? Had it hurt more because she. . .didn't want to do it?

She blushed, ashamed to be even thinking of this; disgusted by herself for doing so with such seeming casualness. As if it were every day when her entire life became torn asunder. Her hand moved absently between her legs, scrubbing at that delicate space until she wondered from the level of pain whether she had done more harm than good. Perhaps she was right, she concluded, leaning against the side of the shower stall.

Perhaps she would never be clean again.

x x x

He knocked once, then again.

With a long-suffering sigh, Severus aimed his wand at the door, muttering the same charm that every teacher at the school knew. The universal charm, good to get into any locked room in the castle.

Handy for circumstances such as these.

He pushed gently on the doorknob, letting it crack open only a centimeter or two, blinking at the sheer amount of steam that bellowed from the room.

"Miss ---" he paused, swallowing back the name that had come unthinkingly to his lips. She had been right to say that she was no longer Miss Granger. He sighed. "Hermione. Are you alright?"

The sound of running water was the only response to his question, and the frown on his lips deepened.

"If you do not respond I will be forced to enter."

The threat hung in the air, and he listened intently for that moment when she would undoubtedly give in. There was no way she was just going to let him push open the door, slowly walk in, pull aside the shower curtain and –

"Merlin," he gasped, dropping to his knees next to the tub. She was sleeping, though how he did not know. Her entire body was pink from the scalding water she had let run over her, and there were darker spots where it looked as if she'd taken the washrag and had scrubbed herself to injury. "You need to wake up now, Hermione."

She moaned in her sleep, a pitiful noise of pain and suffering; and for the first time in years Severus actually thought he could feel. . .something. Not love – never that emotion for her.

Pity, perhaps. Remorse, as well. This night could have gone so much better for both she and he. Was he not the older one in this relationship? Could he honestly not have put his foot down and insisted that they wait on this aspect of their relationship, even if only by a day or three? Just long enough to let the pain of the wedding become not so grievous in her heart? He had intimidated her enough in class throughout the years, why had he balked so easily in these matters?

He pushed aside the thoughts, realizing that there would most likely never be an answer to the questions they raised. Reaching for the knobs, he turned the water off, watching as the last trickle ran down the drain. He pulled her robe from the floor by his feet, wrapping it over her wet body before muttering a simple levitating charm.

It took another fifteen minutes to get her dried and dressed, settled back into the bed, during which time she didn't wake.

A spell, most likely; he knew. Some type of charm to make sure that she got a good night's rest, though why she would have bothered learning something so useless, he couldn't really say. It wasn't as if someone like her wanted to sleep. Sleep was for the non-academics in the world. The ones that didn't want to make something of their lives.

People unlike himself. . .and unlike her.

They were two of a kind, he mused with bitter silence. Two people thrown together, determined to make the best of it, though neither had the slightest clue how to do so. For all that she was friends with Potter and that insufferable Weasley boy and his sister, she was just as deficient in social niceties as he was. Polite when called for, but so often more than not looking as if she'd rather be somewhere where she wasn't called upon to be so bloody formal.

He understood that all too well.

There were other similarities, including an intense drive for knowledge that he knew could be either her blessing or undoing – just which one he wasn't sure yet; but none of those were exceedingly interesting given the excitement of the night, and the sleep his body was demanding of him even at that moment, with a large yawn.

There would be more time to ponder that tomorrow, though, he told himself as he rolled over in the bed, back facing where Hermione still lay, covered in warm blankets lest the morning bring a trip to the infirmary for a cold, or worse.

He hated feeling this way, the urge to take care of someone, anyone, other than himself. Taking care of others only invited yourself to be used and abused, after all. And he would not find himself in either position, Merlin willing.

But she so obviously needed someone to care for her. She certainly wasn't able to do it herself, unless self-mutilation through hot water and over-cleaning was something he wasn't aware of. One of those new trends that would sweep through the school to the point it became obnoxious and even the Headmaster banned it?

Somehow he doubted it. He fought down the urge to look at her arms under a stronger light, to determine then and there if she needed to go to Poppy, but couldn't bring himself to do it. She was sleeping so peacefully for now.

In the morning he'd make sure Poppy came by to 'check in on them'.

For Hermione's sake only, of course, he told himself as his stomach once again churned with disgusted nausea.

Just for Hermione.

END CH11-B


	13. Chapter 12

x x x Part Twelve x x x 

They ignored each other the next day, by unspoken agreement; as if it would go away if they just didn't talk about it, or to each other.

At all.

Severus bit back a sigh, watching his new wife from across the room. She had a book in her lap, one of his own if he didn't miss his mark. The part of him that wanted to say something to her for taking the book without asking was too overshadowed by the part of him that wanted to keep his distance for him to even so much as comment. Besides, it was one of the most innocuous texts out of his entire private collection. Nothing that she could even remotely use to get into mischief with.

Of course, that was giving her far too little credit. She could no doubt get into trouble with any number of mundane items at her command. Were not her escapades with Potter and Weasley a testament to that fact?

She glanced up from the book, looking towards the fire, then the far wall where the bookshelf was. Her hands shut it idly, carefully; so as not to ruin one page of it. That much they had in common, a lust for knowledge, for the written word. He had no doubt that she enjoyed putting quill to parchment, watching the ink spread over the page, just as much as he did.

It was probably the only thing that they had in common.

Her eyes drifted slowly toward him, stopping in what he could only call shock when she found that he was looking towards her as well. She blinked once, and then again, before looking away.

"I need to have my things moved."

Severus bowed his head in acknowledgement, nodding once. His hair fell heavily around his face, hiding her from his sight. They would be sharing quarters now, as was appropriate.

No, not appropriate, he told himself. A student and a professor could never be. . .appropriate. He did not care if she was his wife or not.

Yet, here they were. Trapped, for lack of a better word. He with her, her with him. His rooms were no longer his sanctuary so much as a prison cell.

Another sigh dared try come to his lips, his own mind berating him none too gently for his caustic thoughts on the situation. Yes, yes, she was suffering. He was suffering. They were both bloody well suffering over this insane debacle his father had placed them in. Her sobs from the night before, painfully loud through the bathroom door, still grated on his heart even in the cool light of day, tugging strings he would have long since liked severed permanently.

"I can have the house elves –"

"No," she cut him off, eyes daring to meet his once again. "I mean, I'll go do it."

"Fine."

He watched her rise from the chair, setting the book back into his shelves without another word towards him; before leaving the room entirely.

The sigh that he had been holding between clenched teeth finally escaped, and it filled the room with its explosiveness.

The sofa. She could have the blasted bed and he would sleep on the sofa. That would be the arrangements until school ended for the summer and they were forced to retire to Snape Manor. They could have their own separate rooms at that stage.

Except for when they were trying to fulfill the 'other' terms of the contract, of course.

He shuddered at the thought.

x x x

Hermione did her best to ignore the pointed stares and whispers that followed her as she took the shortest possible route from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower. Her eyes were burning with tears by the time she finally stood before the Fat Lady and announced the password in a whispery voice, scared that someone might hear her and come running. That Harry and Ron would be waiting.

She couldn't face them.

Not today.

Not after –

Her stomach lurched, but she managed to hold back the bile that rose. It would get better, she told herself. Certainly never the stuff that romance novels were made of, but perhaps one day she would be able to stomach his touch with less distaste forming.

Either that or she'd have to find new things to go over in her head during the act itself. Transfiguration guides could only take her so far.

She stepped hesitantly into the Gryffindor common room, blanching at the sight of the housemates that were sitting around. The noise dimmed off until it was silent, everyone turning to look her way. She swallowed, stepping the rest of the way into the room and letting the portrait door swing shut behind her. No Harry and Ron, so at least she was blessed insofar as that.

No one made a move to speak with her, and she didn't rightfully care. What could they honestly say at this point to make it any better. . .or worse? This was the lowest of the low. She'd lost the last of her innocence to one of the few people on this planet that she could say with honesty that she despised more often than not.

There was nothing more to be said.

She turned quickly, taking the steps into the girls' dormitory two at a time, racing down the hall. The door knob twisted beneath her hand and she was in within seconds, shutting it behind her. She leaned against it, sliding down as the tears began to fall.

"'Mione?"

"Gin?" she whispered, not even opening her eyes.

"Oh, Merlin," her roommate sighed in sympathy, comforting arms slipping around her shoulders the next. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Why for? It's not like any of this is your fault."

"I know," Ginny shook her head, her eyes so sad that Hermione felt mildly guilty for bringing this on her. "But I still am."

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched up into a sad smile and she nodded once, just sitting there in the other girl's arms, letting herself have this brief reprieve from the Hell her life had become so quickly.

x x x

She let herself back into Snape rooms, letting the door fall shut behind her with a mild bang. Her thins were in her pocket, shrunk conveniently down to a manageable size, and only Crookshanks' carrier burdened her hands.

"That beast –"

Hermione looked up, leveling a glare at her husband. "That 'beast' is my cat. And he lives where I live."

In a flurry of robes he was up and moving around the room, pulling books from the shelves only to put them back again, jostling furniture. He was. . .as out of sorts as she could ever remember seeing him.

"We need to talk."

She blinked in surprise, swallowing the instinctive ball of fear that rose in her throat.

"No we don't."

His robes came to a billowing stop as he turned to stare at her, dark eyes unreadable. "Yes, we do."

Hermione frowned, setting Crookshank's cage on the floor. She leaned over, letting the cat out; pointedly ignoring the glowering man across the room. She rubbed a hand along the cat's fur as he slowly exited the carrier, sniffing around the room.

"Miss –"

She glanced up sharply, raising her eyebrows as the words died on his lips. Yes, Miss –what-?

"Would you come sit down so that we might talk this over like adults?"

Hermione sighed sharply, nodding her head once. She crossed the room quickly, eyes to the floor, unable to meet his gaze. She didn't want to talk to him. Not right now. Not. . .ever? 

Stupid idea, really. Extremely so, the more she thought about it. They couldn't exactly avoid each other for the rest of their lives.

She crossed her legs at the ankles, sticking them out in front of her, practically slouching down in her chair. She didn't know how to act around him now. Didn't know how to make things better or less painful, even. There would always be the pain of the night before in the back of her mind, even if one day they were able to get to the point where she could stand to be in the same room with them.

It would always be in her mind. The back, the front. . somewhere in the middle.

Always there.

"So?" she offered with a shrug of her shoulders, still not looking up. "You wanted to talk?"

He sighed, and she looked up without thinking about it, surprised to see that he looked just as tired as she was feeling. She bit the inside of her cheek, unsure of how to proceed, or even what he wanted.

Years from now she'd look back on that moment, when their eyes met and understanding passed between them, and think that it was funny how little it had taken, really, to get them to that point. Just sitting there, trying to act like rational adults.

It all began with the opening of his mouth, and words that were neither kind nor harsh.

They were just words.

And that was all it took.

x x x End Part x x x


End file.
